Albion
by vivelarevolution
Summary: Canon 7.02. Lucas is home from Russia, damaged but alive. He's been debriefed and he's back on the team. But being back with Mi5 isn't as easy as he'd hoped. Lucas/OC Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

Wound Up Tight.

They had held him down that first time, his arms pinned to his sides and the weight of the other man crushing his legs. At first he had thought it was the end; a knife in his ribs and a slow death. But the stinging pain in his lower back had been unexpected.

'Keep still.' His attacker had said through gritted teeth, and Lucas complied.

It took him only a few seconds to realise what was happening. The needle scratched against his skin and the ink stung like hell, but Lucas kept his teeth clenched and said nothing.

Eventually his arms were released and the pressure on his legs lifted and he rolled painfully off his front, the skin on his back searing.

'One year in hell,' said the rough voice of his tattooist, motioning at the rows of scratches on the wall next to Lucas' bunk. 'You've lasted longer than we thought.'

Lucas didn't make eye contact. Kept his gaze fixed on a point on the floor and said nothing. Peitr was tall and wiry, his hair a rusty straw colour and his eyes dark and piercing, but Lucas didn't let his eyes wonder, and after a while, Peitr sat down on the hard bunk next to him.

'You don't have them, you're a dead man. And dead men aren't much company.' Peitr clamped his hand on Lucas' shoulder a little too hard to be friendly and then got up. 'Tell me when you want to last till Tuesday and I'll make up some more ink.'

Lucas swallowed and shut his eyes, he wasn't sure he wanted to last till Tuesday, because to today was Friday and Friday meant the torture of Katchimov's gentle taunting.

'Vyeta,' he murmured quietly to himself. 'Vyeta, Vyeta.'

* * *

Libraries were a haven to his younger self, but as Lucas enters through the automatic doors and into the cool open space of the foyer, he wonders if they'll be anything like the mysterious buildings of his childhood.

There's a woman behind the main desk, and she looks fleetingly up at him before returning to the computer screen on the work-top. He stops in the middle of the foyer, scanning to left and right, but as far as he can see there's no-one else to help him, so he approaches the desk, a knot of anxiety twisting in his gut, unsure quite what he's uncomfortable with. He asks for a library card, and waits while she rummages around in a draw, before placing the paper on the table and explaining it to him as if he's never filled out a form before.

Her hair's greying slightly, and she keeps casting him flickering glances which Lucas tries to ignore. He's used to the scrutiny, but the flirtatious smiles confuse him, and he keeps his gaze low.

She shoots Lucas a curious look as he begins to write it out in Russian, and it takes him a moment to realise his mistake, before he crosses his name hastily out and starts again in English. A hot flush of embarrassment makes him avoid her searching gaze. He passes the form over and stares up at the clock on the wall as she enters his details into the computer.

Eventually she slides a new card across the desk towards him, a manicured fingernail pointing to where he should sign his name, and he picks up the pen again, his signature feeling strangely unfamiliar as he loops it hurriedly into the space.

'Thank you,' he says once he's handed the pen back, and slips the card into his pocket, not sparing her another glance.

Her eyes are still on his back as he moves away into the bookshelves, the small jolt of anticipation making him walk a little faster, an echo of his childhood joy. But the smell is different. Not the musk of paper and binding; but a modern smell. Paint and plastic.

After half an hour Lucas has surprised himself. Ian Banks, Sebastian Faulks, Rushdie, DS. Lawrence. He has trailed his fingers along their spines, having missed the feel of pages under his fingertips for eight long years, the smell of the paper and the glue. He stops by the poetry section, and finds himself wondering what has happened to his copies of Blake. The anthology his father had given him before he left for university, treasured in his student room and then placed carefully on the bookshelf he and Elizabeta had picked after they had married. He supposed she had kept it. It had been his. But then he frowns, and looks down. _She had been his. _His wife. Harry had been brief when he had talked about her and the reality had been all the more sickening when he had spoken to her himself.

Lucas wasn't even sure he'd wanted to see her. He had changed. She had too. He knew he wouldn't be able to accept it. The change in himself had been his own, but he hadn't known if he could look her in the face and see the lines of the years marking her mouth, the crease of sorrow in her forehead. Because her change had been palpable, he had looked her in the face and seen the eight years he hadn't been there. Eight years of someone else.

But she had missed him. Hadn't she? She had cared, cared enough that when Katchimov showed her the photos of him she had offered to help, to make it easier for him.

But she found someone else. Jealousy stabs at his gut and Lucas' jaw clenches as he thinks of her with a nameless man, leaving him forgotten; just someone who brings a pang of guilt when she remembers him fleetingly on a late October evening and the chill has returned to the air.

_Were you always this cold, under the skin? Was that man I knew just a lie?_

Lucas closes his eyes, the memory flickering round his head. _Just a lie. _He thinks viciously. _All lies._

A sudden impulse makes him stretch for Blake, a longing for the symbolism, the rhythm of the words.

Another hand has reached for the book, and he retracts his own quickly, looking up.

Ice blue meets leaf green.

'Sorry, here…' Lucas pulls the book off the shelf, and holds it out to her.

'No, its ok.'

He put his head slightly on one side. 'Really, I-'

But she rolls her eyes and he finds it refreshing somehow, and reminiscent of an irritated Ros.

'Its, ok.' She grins, revealing small teeth. 'Your arms are longer than mine anyway, you would have got there before me.' She takes the book out of his hands and places it on the top of the pile. 'Thats quite a varied selection.'

He glances down at it and then back up at her, unable for a second to form the words he knows he needs. 'I've been out of the country for a time…' The words come slowly, he's unsure what to reveal. Knowing he doesn't need to be guarded. But after eight years its hard to break the habit. 'I've not been in a library for a while.'

She nods, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 'Life gets in the way, I know.'

He wonders if she does.

'Was this what you came in for?' he asks suddenly, nodding at the book in his arms, eyebrows raising slightly.

She grins again and shakes her head. 'I'm sure I'll find something else. Enjoy the Blake.'

Lucas watches her move away, her swathe of dark hair reminding him of his ex-wife. But he can see the red in hers, caught by the late autumn sunlight lancing through the windows.

A smile tugs his lips. A connection. A start.

* * *

He finds himself outside the office later that day, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and as he stares up at the windows all he can see the explosion reflected in the glass. The indestructible Adam Carter, destroyed by the people he swore he would fight to the finish. He paid with his life.

Adam's funeral had been yesterday, and it had taken both Harry and Malcolm to persuade him to attend. He had barely known him. Felt uncomfortable being unable to share their grief. Adam had been a good man, but he had whipped in and out of Lucas' life so fast it was as if he had never been there.

He felt the bitterness of loss directed at him as he sat near the back in the church, and Lucas knew that in a way he would replace him. He saw it in their faces, the hostile glances. Glimpsed it in Jo's eyes, and in the curt nod Ros gave him as she passed him in the church. He was not yet one of them. Damaged goods. He knew thats what they thought. They were waiting for him to crack, to show some sign of the eight years of hell he had endured. The proud part of Lucas thought he wouldn't give them that satisfaction. They wouldn't see him crack. The other part wondered how long he was really going to last.

It had been a small service and Lucas had thought fleetingly how his own funeral would have looked if he had not returned from Russia. Who would have been there to remember him? But he kept his head bowed and smiled sad smiles at those filling the church. He would not show them the cracks, even if he could.

His phone beeps in his coat pocket and Lucas reaches automatically for it, still staring up at Thames House.

It's a text message from Ros.

_We have a problem - get here now._

He slides his phone shut and takes a breath in. Just another working day.

* * *

**My first attempt at a Spooks fanfic, and to be honest i'm a bit nervous. The main plot will be coming into play in the next chapter. This was just really to set the scene. **

**Lucas is struggling to get over his confusion about Elizabeta, and at the same time is trying to fit back in with the team and prove his worth. Please drop a review and tell me what you think. Next Chappie up soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Unplanned.

Ros casts Lucas a cursory glance as he dumps the plastic bag of books on his desk and pulls off his coat. She's carrying a black leather file, and her lips purse slightly as he stuffs his phone into his trouser pocket.

'Where have you been?'

'Library.' He says, giving her a quick glance. She's wearing another new suit, and he notices she looks as collected as ever, her interminable calm apparently one of the constants on the grid.

She raises an arched eyebrow, but makes no comment. 'In the meeting room.' She says smartly. 'We're all waiting.'

Lucas feels a sinking in his gut. Was he the only member of the team who didn't spend their Saturday afternoons at their desks? He prepares himself for the inevitable scrutiny and follows Ros into the paneled room, where the team are seated round the long table.

They all glance up as he enters, and Harry gives a tight smile. 'Good of you to join us Lucas.'

Lucas mutters an apology and slides into the desk beside Jo, who casts him a small smirk.

'Alright.' Harry stands. 'Just this afternoon I was contacted by a man called David Allingham about a possible terror threat. Allingham's a senior lawyer in a high profile firm called Delawny Associates.'

The image of a man in his early forties, with a receding hairline and a square jaw appears on the screen next to a detailed biography and Lucas leans forwards in his seat to read it.

'Born 1966 into a middle class family in Ramsgate, Kent, he had glowing reports at school, went on to study law at University of London and hasn't looked back since.' Harry frowns. 'But last week he was sent an email by a previously unknown terrorist group calling themselves 'the righteous brotherhood.''

'Al'Qaeda?' asks Jo.

But Ros steps in. 'No, if only it were that simple.' She indicates the screen. 'We've found links between suspected members of the group and ex-FSB prisoners.'

'Russians?' Lucas asks, the familiar jolt lurching his stomach.

'Apparently so.' Says Ros dryly.

Lucas looks back at the screen and swallows silently. 'The word,' he says suddenly, standing. 'The Russian at the bottom. '_Zabytye_. It means, 'the forgotten ones'.'

'Lucas?' Harry glances at his agent, rubbing a hand over his brow.

Lucas paces round to the head of the table, rubbing a hand over his upper arm. 'The forgotten ones was what they called us in prison.' He says quietly. 'It was what we started to call ourselves. Could just be a coincidence, but I think it might be a connection.' He looks to Ros. 'What intel have we got on the cell?'

'Not much,' said Ben, holding up a file. 'A few leads, but otherwise we've nothing on any of them. No names, dates, not even any faces, just the odd affiliation to the FSB.'

Lucas rubs his brow. 'How do we know this man is telling us the truth?'

'We don't.' Ros says bluntly.

'Then we need evidence. Something more than a few Russian names and possible FSB leads.'

'On that note.' Harry stands. 'I've arranged for you to meet Mr Allingham Ros, I'm sure you'll find something of use.'

Ros gives him a thin lipped smile.

'Malcolm, I want all Mr Allingham's emails checked, all phone calls logged and anything you can bring up on the brotherhood.'

Malcolm nods. 'I'll need access to the firm's computer system-'

'Consider it done.'

Lucas clears his throat and turns to Harry. 'I can contact Elizabeta.'

Harry nods, but Lucas sees Ros throw Jo an unreadable look.

Harry picks up his papers. 'Connie, I'll need you checking the Russian radio stations, see if anythings been leaked. Keep me updated.'

* * *

Lucas leaves the grid at 2.24 and thinks longingly of a hot cup of coffee and the lunch he didn't have time for. The sky overhead has started to darken, and he quickens his pace as the first spatters of rain start to fall. It's been a long time since he last braved a shower. Shallow baths have been all he can manage since his return, so he keeps his head low and prays it doesn't get too heavy.

He had drowned again last night. Woken up gasping and choking, his sheets tangled at his waist and the hard, unforgiving floor pressing into his back. Lying there in the dark, at 3.45 in the morning, he'd watched the headlights of cars racing each other across the ceiling of his bedroom. He had left windows open and it had been cold, but he hadn't feel it, just concentrated on his breathing and the regular thud of blood in his ears.

But now the rain has started to get worse, and he feels the familiar tightening in his chest, forces himself to lengthen his strides.

There's a covered doorway to his left and he ducks inside, forcing himself to take a long breath. He's safe, till the rain eases off.

'Hello stranger,' Says an amused female voice from behind him, and Lucas whips round, startled, and a little annoyed he didn't notice her before.

It's the young woman from the library. She raises an eyebrow and observes him silently, her red-brown hair now in a thick plait swept over her shoulder.

Lucas holds out his hand. 'Lucas North, sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier.'

'Rhian McKenzie, and ditto, I could have done with someone to talk to whilst the rain eased off.' There's a lilt to her voice and Lucas finds himself noting the careful twist of her mouth as she smiles wryly.

'My apologies,' he says, a smile lifting the edge of his lips.

'Oh, so you can be charming?' She grins. 'I thought you were one of the tall, silent ones in the library.'

'Tall, silent, charming. Whatever suits the occasion,' Lucas replies, humour warming his voice. 'So you're from Scotland?' He cocks an inquiring eyebrow.

'Well done Sherlock. From Aberdeenshire.'

'You sound proud of your roots.'

'Ever met a scotsman who wasn't?'

And they share a smile.

'Ever been?'

'No,' he answers truthfully.

'Shame. You'd like it.'

'How do you know?' He asks, tugging his coat closer about him.

'I get this feeling.'

He gives the sky a cursory glance. 'I think it's stopping.'

Rhian looks too and nods. 'Well, I'm this way-' She indicates down the street, and takes a pace backwards. 'Maybe I'll see you around, Lucas North.'

'Maybe,' he says, and gives her a nod and a side smile.

* * *

She notices his coat first, slung over the chair in the hallway, and picks it up quickly, walking through into the kitchen, bristling slightly. Their last encounter had been awkward to say the least, and Elizabeta finds herself snapping at him as soon as she enters the room.

'Don't leave your coat in the hall Lucas, what if my husband comes home?'

He turns from his place by the kitchen table, and looks her straight in the face, unnervingly scrutinising. 'I hoped you'd be here.'

'You can't come sneaking in uninvited Lucas.' She busies herself with the paperwork on the counter, and ignores his piercing gaze.

Lucas says nothing, just watches her.

She stops suddenly and looks at him, her brown eyes unreadable. 'What do you want Lucas?'

'To talk.'

She glances away, and then rests her hands on the table, suddenly looking very weary.

'I don't have time for this Lucas. Unless you can promise to keep my family safe I'm not sure this is going to work.'

'Elizabeta, I need your help.' His eyebrows lift and his brow creases, but she says nothing. 'Look. This isn't easy for me, but I'm asking you to work with me on this. I need you to find out what the Russians know about a man called David Allingham and anything about a terrorist group called the righteous brotherhood.'

She considers it for a silent minute, then she looks him in the face. 'Don't use me Lucas.'

'I'm not. I'm trying to help you.'

'Well I've moved on.'

Anger rises in Lucas' chest and he sees red for a second, the children's drawings on the fridge stained crimson. 'You left me.' He hisses.

'You left me!' She retorts angrily. 'Alone, for eight years. Did you seriously expect me to wait for you that long?'

'Yes,' Lucas says bitterly. 'But then I suppose I should have known better.'

'Then let go. Lucas, move on. The way I did, the way I had to.'

Lucas lets out a heavy breath. 'I said I'd protect you from them. If you can't find me anything of use then maybe you're not such a valuable asset as I thought.'

'Is that all I am now? An asset? Is that all I ever was?'

'Vyeta-' Lucas feels guilt creeping into his chest.

'Don't threaten me Lucas. I'll find your information, this time. So long as you promise never to come here again. Whatever we had, is gone. If this is all thats left, I want to remember you the way you were before. Not like this.' He's forgotten how beautiful she is when she's angry, but her words are too bitter for him to realise.

'Thank you,' he mutters.

'I'll get the file to you.'

He senses the unspoken queue for him to go and takes his coat from the table.

'Lucas?'

He turns quickly, hoping for a reprisal. A small smile. Something to tell him she's not serious. That she's not left him behind entirely.

'The heart is capable of loving more than one person Lucas. I found that, you will too.' Her eyes are serious, and he gazes back.

His hand strays unconsciously to the tattoo on his wrist. 'But love leaves scars, Vyeta. Just like everything else.'

* * *

**Hope the scene between Elizabeta and Lucas was Ok. Bearing in mind he's already had the talk with her about him always being Mi5, I imagined her being bitterer than she was in the series. He's obviously unfazed about slipping in and out of her house, and I think she would have been harsh with him. **

**Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Ie. any first thoughts on Rhian. Cos I don't want to write a character who pisses people off, like someone American we all know.**

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**X****anthemj - Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it. I felt I needed a bit of setting the scene, so I'm happy you thought it was a good starting point.**

**BritishNinjaChick - I thought they glazed over Lucas' time in Prison other than the torture sessions, and they don't really make it clear how he got his tattoos, so I wanted to explore that a bit. We may find a few old faces come back to haunt him.**

**happycat12 - Thank you for your encouraging comments. I thought the same thing about Lucas and libraries, and I always imagined him as an only child and the sort of little boy to emerge himself in books.**

**zelofheda-B - I always thought Lucas would find it harder to get used to writing again in english than speaking it, he's probably not seen much English text for a while and I'm so glad you're interested in reading more!**

**Name isn't Arria - Thank you for your kind comments. I'm hoping you grow to like the OC in this story, so fingers crossed!**

**BeanieSgirl - Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one. The style of writing is a little different to what I normally try, so I hope it's working ok.**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Thank you for your review. Glad you're enjoying it.**

**xxadamxx - Thanks for reading, and yes I finally got round to it. Hope you like this chapter, and of course, the wonderful Lucas!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

Progress.

Harry slides into his chair and shuffles through the paperwork on his desk, the crease in his forehead deepening as he scans over the invoices and inter-departmental messages. He's about to open his desk draw and sweep the whole lot in, when a slip of paper catches his eye.

Frowning, he picks it up and reads the word printed there in neat blue handwriting.

PAYBACK

The letters stare back at him from the paper; accusatory, unrelenting. Harry glares back, trying to identify something about it. The handwriting says nothing, the paper even less, and after a while Harry puts it down on the desk, rubbing his mouth with his hand thoughtfully.

A prank of some sort? Someone having a laugh. Perhaps it isn't even meant for him. But there is something ultimately threatening about the words, cliche as they are. Harry swallows. He's made too many enemies to count, but who would use such an obvious message to forewarn him?

Through the glass walls of his office Harry can see Ros at her desk, Jo talking avidly to Ben and Malcolm sitting in the background, typing furiously into his computer. Decision made, Harry stands and slides open the doors.

'Malcolm!' he calls.

Malcolm looks up and then stands quickly.

'In here, if you would.' Harry retreats into his office, a bemused Malcolm following.

'Harry?' asks Malcolm once he's standing in front of his desk.

'I've just received this-' Harry picks up the message and holds it out to Malcolm.

'A bit obvious isn't it?' says Malcolm once he's read it.

Harry nods shortly. 'I want to know if it's genuine. Get a finger print scan done and check on the paper and handwriting. For all we know it could be John Doe on floor seven having a joke at our expense.'

Malcolm smiles. 'And if it isn't?'

'Then I'd like to know as soon as possible.' Harry raises his eyebrows slightly, and gives Malcolm a small smile.

* * *

Three hours later and the whole team are sat round the meeting room table, steaming mugs of coffee leaving rings on the polished surface.

Lucas stands and leans forward, knuckles on the table top. 'I've been talking to Elizabeta, and she's got me this-' He slides forward a brown folder and the others crane their necks as he opens it.

'This single sheet of paper.' He holds it up. 'Is the entirety of the intel the FSB have on the Brotherhood.'

'Impressive,' says Ros drily.

'And what exactly is this extensive information our Russian friends have managed to procure?' Harry looks at Lucas skeptically.

'A name,' Lucas turns to the screen. 'This man, Sasha Osmanovic. He's a Bosnian assassin turned FSB affiliate. Or so we thought.' Lucas smiles ruefully. 'Turns out the FSB found he had connections to some ex-prisoners.'

'The Brotherhood?' Asks Jo.

'Probably.' Lucas nods at the document on the screen. 'The FSB realised he was leaking information, and he was duly disposed of. His file was closed two months ago. But we did some checks, and his credit card's still in use, as is his mobile.'

'It won't take the FSB long to realise he's still alive and kicking,' Harry comments.

'No. Which is why we need to get him before they do. This man's our only lead outside the brotherhood itself.'

'Well then, you have my permission to try and contact Osmanovic.'

Lucas nods and sits down, as Ros leans forwards.

'Yesterday afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting Mr Allingham.' Ros smiles thinly. 'He appears to know no more than we do. But he's frightened, as would be expected, which makes people prone to panic. The email was the normal threats. Family targeted, assets discredited. But I got the feeling there's something he's not telling us.'

Jo pushes a file towards Harry. 'Ben and I did some fishing, and one of the links that's consistently appeared is to Peitr Saitov.'

Lucas froze.

The memory of straw-blonde hair and piercing dark eyes. Of being slapped on the cheek repeatedly till Lucas eyelids blinked blearily open.

'Welcome to the world of the living.' Peitr had grinned a white toothed smile, and crouched back on his haunches whilst Lucas shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, the stones seeping coldness into his shivering body.

Lucas had scratched out the image of god reaching down from heaven until Peitr had nodded and picked up the needle and shaver. Lucas hadn't forgotten the stinging pain of last time, but he had gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

'Lucas!' Harry's voice cuts through the memories.

Lucas looks up, startled, to find the whole team staring at him, most in concern, Ros in cold observation. He lets go of the edge of the table which he has been gripping till his knuckles are white and leans back in his chair, breathing heavily.

Harry casts him a concerned look, before turning back to the team. Lucas is grateful, he doesn't feel ready to explain to them that he's still living the nightmare he's only just escaped from. Not yet anyway.

As the team leaves the meeting room, Lucas feels a hand on his arm and sighs inwardly.

Harry regards him carefully. 'Are you alright Lucas?'

'I'm fine Harry,' Lucas says firmly.

'Because the last thing we need is you falling apart after only a few days back at work.'

Lucas feels anger bubble in his chest. He's not weak. 'Listen, it was nothing. Just sparked a memory thats all.'

'You know Saitov?'

'No,' Lucas lies.

'Then…'

'I just got dragged back there Harry. It won't happen again.'

'I-'

But Lucas cuts across him. 'I'd better get going if I'm going to get to Osmanovic before the Russians do.'

Harry frowns, but nods. 'Be careful Lucas.'

Lucas smirks. 'I'm always careful.'

* * *

Pulling up outside Osmanovic's house Lucas feels the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Call it a sixth sense, but he knows somethings not right even before he's got out the car. The street's too quiet. The trees too still.

He glances up and down the row of houses, hand closing over the revolver hidden under his jacket. There's no-one in sight.

A little un-nerved, Lucas pushes open the gate and walks up the path, scanning the windows of the flats carefully. So far as he can see there's no-one watching him, and he forces himself to relax as he steps into the stairwell of the house. It's dim inside, the only source of light the windows high in the wall behind the banisters.

Osmanovic's flat is on the ground floor, and Lucas knocks cautiously.

No answer.

Tension gripping his shoulders and tightening in his gut, Lucas tries the door. It's unlocked. Silently, he slips into the hallway, gun hand at his waist, ready to whip out the revolver in an instant.

The flat is utterly still, utterly quiet.

Voice slightly hoarse, Lucas calls out. 'Hello?'

He backs into the kitchen, glances at the cooker and sink, and then at the table.

The white paper glares back at him from the dark of the wood.

Lucas snatches it up and reads it:

_Sorry._

'Shit.' Lucas' head snaps up as he hears the sound of car tyres screeching outside, and he's out the door in a second, feet pounding on the ground as he dashes from the flat, revolver held tightly in his hand.

It takes him a matter of moments to throw open the car door, fling himself into the drivers seat and start the engine up, heart pounding.

'Come on, come on, come on!' He hisses as the car growls into life.

He can see the dark Lexus turning the corner at the end of the street and forces his own car to accelerate. He's concentrating so hard on catching up with the other vehicle, he doesn't notice the girl beginning to cross the corner until nearly the last minute.

Lucas brings the car spinning to a halt in a squeal of breaks and swears a stream of fluent Russian, his heart beating a staccato rhythm in his chest. Had he hit her?

He wrenches the car door open and skids round to the front of the bonnet, mouth drying.

He's thrown her about a foot forward and she's trying to sit up as he hurries towards her.

'Rhian!' Lucas says firmly, sliding down beside her and putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her on the ground. 'Rhian stay still.'

He can see she's dazed; her eyes slightly glassy and her nose bloodied, but she can focus enough on his face to recognise him.

'You ran me over.' She says quietly, accusingly.

Lucas can't help a brief, thankful smile, and finishes digging in his coat pocket for his mobile. But then something stills his hand. The startling realisation that he doesn't want her to know what he is, that he doesn't want to drag her into this. Take her to hospital and he'd have to explain why he'd been racing after the other car in the first place, explain how he'd managed to hit her. Harry would be on hand to clear it up, but Lucas looks down at Rhian and knows he can't tell her. Not just yet.

'Rhian?' He asks, loudly. 'Can you hear me?'

'Loud and clear,' she whispers.

'Good,' he says, and shoves his phone back in his pocket. 'Anything feel like it's broken?'

Rhian closes her eyes for a second. 'No, at least not that I can tell.' She opens her eyes again. 'You didn't hit me very hard, it was more like a shove.'

Lucas scans her carefully. 'More the shock than anything else?'

Rhian smiles. 'Probably.' She looks at him. 'Can I sit up now?'

Lucas puts an arm round her shoulders, his knees starting to complain from kneeling on the tarmac and helps her sit upright. 'Still ok?' he asks cautiously. 'Could you make it to the car?'

Rhian looks and swallows. 'With some help.'

Lucas' arm round her waist, they walk as one to the car, Lucas releasing his grip to open the passenger door.

'Let me take you home,' he says, once he's back in the drivers seat.

Rhian stops holding the tissue to her bleeding nose and looks at him. 'Tell you where I live?'

Lucas smirks. 'That would be the general idea.'

* * *

'It's a bit of a mess I'm afraid,' Rhian says as she pushes open the door, and kicks a pair of shoes out the way.

Lucas smiles and shakes his head. 'It's fine, don't apologise.'

Rhian walks slowly through into the sitting room, Lucas following her. 'Will you be alright?'

She sits down on the sofa and puts her head in her hands briefly.

'Rhian?' asks Lucas, quietly.

'Fine.' She looks up at him and tries a smile. 'Just a headache.'

'I'd better be getting back to work,' he says.

'Where do you work?' Rhian asks, staring at him curiously.

'Foreign Office,' Lucas replies without a thought.

'Oh.'

'Oh,' he mimics, and smiles. 'Listen. I'll write down my number and you give me a call if you need anything.'

Rhian nods. 'Thank you.'

Lucas scribbles down his mobile number and places it on the hall table.

'Why were you driving so fast after that car, Lucas?'

Lucas can't resist a smirk. 'The last person I ran over didn't phone me back.'

Suddenly feeling very bold, Lucas leans over the arm of the sofa and places a featherlight kiss on her cheek. 'Take care.'

He closes the door of her flat behind him, and then swears softly. Harry is going to be furious.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed this! **

**I was feeling a little bit nervous about posting this chapter, as Lucas was pretty quick to abandon ship when it comes to the case, but I just couldn't see him knocking over someone he knew and then dashing on, even if it was crucial to his work. Plus, he has the tendency to be a bit reckless/headstrong. All will be revealed about the mess of emotions he's got himself in next chapter.**

**Any comments/encouragement sincerely welcomed!**

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**LoveSavetheEmpty - I need pestering, don't feel bad!**

**BritishNinjaChick - Glad you like Rhian, and I'm so happy you thought the Lucas/Elizabeta scene worked. **

**Name isn't Arria - That line 'don't use me.' seemed to stick in my head, and it just fitted into the conversation, I'm glad you picked up on it, and I'm hoping you continue to like Rhian.**

**BeanieSgirl - Thank you for your kind review. I thought the series skimmed over Lucas' feelings a bit too much, so I've been trying to explore them as best I can, glad you're enjoying it!**

**zelofheda-B - Your review was really helpful, and I've been trying to ensure Rhian isn't too perfect like you suggested. Lucas said he was trying to help Elizabeta, because the only way he can keep her safe is by proving to 5 that she's a decent asset and can be of use, which is why 'I****f you can't find me anything of use then maybe you're not such a valuable asset as I thought.' Is such a threat. But I do agree, the writers tend to focus more the stories than spend time explaining. I wanted Lucas to feel that Elizabeta was telling him he could move on, but we'll see he's finder that harder than it should be.**

**Christini - Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Xanthemj - You thought that was tense, trust me, I have much more tenseness up my sleeve. *grins evilly***


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

Damages.

Rhian drops onto the bed and buries her face in the pillow, tears welling in her eyes. She can't do this. Her fingers fist in the pillow, and she wipes a hand roughly across her face. Her head gives a dull ache and Rhian presses her hand to her temples, still sniffing.

She rolls over and stares at the picture on her bedside table, eyesight blurred.

'I can't do this Paul, I can't do this!' She whispers hoarsly. He looks back, his arm around her, dark eyes smiling.

She reaches out to touch his cheek, her fingertips brushing the photograph. It wasn't fair. But a bitter part of her laughs. _Life isn't fair._

'Shut up. Shut up!' She shouts, covering her ears and curling up into a ball.

Her mobile rings, and she freezes for a moment, a sob welling in her throat. Then she swallows it, and picks up the phone.

'Hello?' her voice is normal, crisp and businesslike.

'Rhian.'

She pauses, biting her lip hard. 'Yan,' she replies, her voice a little sharper than usual.

'I saw your good work today, Paul will be happy.' Yan's voice is playful, painful to Rhian's sore ears.

'You leave him out of this,' she hisses, trying to sound in control. It seems to work, because all Yan reply with is quiet laughter.

'For today, maybe. But I'll need some more progress,' his voice is silky.

'He's given me his number.'

'Good,' she can almost hear him smile. 'Give it to me.'

Rhian sucks in a breath. _For Paul._

'Wait a second.' She pushes herself off the bed and pads through into the hallway, the paper on the table where he had left it.

She swallows before reading it out. '07226391575… Got it?'

'Thank you,' Yan's voice gives nothing away.

'How is he?' Rhian finds herself blurting out, and then curses herself. He can't know she's weak.

Yan takes his time answering. 'He's… alive.' Then he hangs up, leaving Rhian in total silence, save for her heart and her breath fast and hard in her ears.

* * *

'You abandoned the case and lost our only link with connections to the Brotherhood! If I didn't need you on the team so badly I'd tell you to take some time off, to sort out your priorities.' Harry's fury fills the room, a palpable entity.

'I couldn't just leave her there!' Lucas, equally angry, turns his back on Harry and stares furiously out the glass of Harry's office.

'You should have phoned the ambulance and carried on with the case. For God's sake Lucas, you can't go round knocking over civilians and then offering them a lift home every time they happen to be a pretty face,' Harry sits heavily into his chair. 'I know you were upset when you found out about your wife, and I know after eight years alone in a Russian prison-'

'I was fully aware of what I was doing when I offered to take her home,' Spits Lucas angrily. 'I'll make contact with Osmanovic some other way.'

Harry stands again. 'There's nothing wrong with backing down when you've made a mistake, Lucas.'

Lucas chews his lip and says nothing.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh. 'I can't say this any other way Lucas, you've jeopardised this whole operation.' His voice is harsh, sharp with the bitterness of having to chastise his officer.

Their silent fuming is interrupted by Ros sticking her head round the door, her lips a thin line and her eyes betraying nothing.

'Have you two finished debating the price of spilt milk, or do you need a bit longer to stew?' She asks, deadpan.

Lucas is too angry to find her wryly amusing, but he follows her out of the office, a glowering Harry just behind him.

So far there's not been much progress. The only official files on the prisoners known to be in the Brotherhood belong to the FSB and Harry has warned the team firmly about raising any suspicions. So they've had to tread carefully. The email to Mr Allingham had been sent from a fake email using a public IP address, and while Malcolm had traced the message as far as he could, the trail had run cold. Their only hope now is that Osmanovic can be contacted again.

Lucas gets given the job of watching Mr Allingham's house, as punishment for his recklessness. He sits in the van, seething silently, not bothering to talk to the two other agents, who tiptoe round him, sending each other knowing glances and infuriatingly supercilious smirks.

He's about to get very angry for the fourth time that afternoon, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Expecting a curt message from Harry, he flips it open to find a text message, from Rhian.

_Am still at home. Bored. Fancy a drink later?_

_Rhian._

Lucas stares at the text. Was she making a move on him? The untrusting part of him wonders what she wants, what she'll get out of it. But the other half finds himself rather pleased.

His lips twitch upwards as he sketches a reply.

_Make it drinks and then dinner's on me. See you round 8? Your place._

_Lucas._

He runs a finger up the side of his mobile once he's sent it, thinking. _The heart is capable of loving more than one person Lucas. _Elizabeta's words have haunted him, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Not love. Not just yet. But like. Like was Ok.

* * *

At five minutes past eight, Lucas is standing outside Rhian's flat, silently daring himself to knock. He's been sat in his car outside for the past ten minutes, and finally forced himself out of the drivers seat, having composed his fluttering nerves for the third time.

What was wrong with him? _You haven't dated for years, thats what. _A heavily sarcastic voice mutters in his head. Lucas rolls his eyes slightly and ignores it.

'Right-,' he whispers. 'Here goes nothing.'

He raps smartly, then steps back.

The door cracks open, and Lucas smiles widely when Rhian's head appears round the gap. She grins when she sees him, her dark hair loose today, a lone clip valiantly trying to secure it back from her face.

'Hello,' Lucas says.

'Hey.'

'My contribution,' he holds out a bottle of wine and rubs his hand over his jaw.

'Come on in,' Rhian opens the door wider. 'Stop hovering on the doorstep.'

Lucas relaxes himself and flashes her an easy smile as he passes.

'How are you feeling?' He asks, once he's in the living room, glancing back at her as she sets the bottle on the work surface.

'I'm fine.' Rhian's mouth turns up in a reassuring smile and she winds her way to the sofa. 'Have a seat.'

'Thanks.'

'What do you want to drink? I've got Vodka, Gin, numerous bottles of tonic, and a couple of beers. Oh and the wine.'

Lucas feels his gorge rise at the thought of Vodka. The recollection of gagging on lukewarm alcohol as it's shoved down his throat to try and cover up the pain he's feeling. After those weeks in the medical wing with treatment for septicemia, the fevers, the exhaustion and then the horror of being thrown back in his cell, mixed with the memories of the Vodka the others used to force down him, claiming it would take away some of the nightmares. It hadn't. It had twisted them, magnified them, made him mad with terror and sick at the thought of another day of living. Lucas shivered uncontrollably. Not Vodka.

'A beer's fine, thanks,' he forces himself to sound normal.

She looks pretty tonight, he notes silently. Dark jeans and a red beaded top.

She glances at him, noting a tension about his jaw and the way he's clasped his hands in his lap.

'You seem nervous,' she comments, her eyebrows raising.

Lucas lets out a breath. 'To be honest I am, I've not been on a date for a while.'

'Is this a date?'

'If you want it to be.' He grins slyly.

'Well,' Rhian smoothes her jeans. 'I don't bite.'

As she hands him his drink, he looks round the room, memorising subconsciously.

'You've moved something,' he comments suddenly, before he's even sure what he's saying. 'You had a picture. There.' He points at the dresser and raises his eyes to look at her.

Lucas senses he's hit on something painful and uncomfortable for Rhian, and begins to feel instantly guilty.

But her mouth twists into a small smile. 'Aren't you observant,' she sits down next to him. 'I had a photo there. But I moved it.' Her eyes are cast down, and there's a shadow over her face.

Lucas frowns and reaches across to take her hand, long fingers closing round hers.

She looks down at their hands intertwined, and clasps his a little.

'Sorry,' says Lucas quietly.

But she shakes her head. 'It's Ok.'

'Now!' Lucas stands, feeling it his responsibility to lighten the mood. 'I owe you dinner. Where do you want to go?'

* * *

'Bet I can guess what you studied at Uni,' says Rhian, dancing backwards up the stairs, as Lucas watches her, an amused smile on his face.

'Go on then,' he dares, still smirking.

'English!'

'No.'

'Psychology.'

'No,' he laughs.

'History?'

'No.'

'Fine!' She stops and blocks the way to her flat. 'Tell me.'

Lucas looks down at her. 'I did Philosophy and Theology.'

Rhian frowns. 'Did you enjoy it?'

'I told myself to hate every minute,' he smiles ruefully. 'But I learnt a lot from it. It taught me some good life lessons.'

'Why did you do it if you hated it?' Rhian is unlocking her flat and glances quizzically over her shoulder.

'Because my father wanted me to.' Lucas reaches for the door and shuts it behind them. 'I wanted to join the army,' he continues, taking Rhian's coat and hanging it on the stand before turning back to her. 'But my father, as a methodist minister, disapproved. He was the one who wanted me to do the Theology and Philosophy.'

'Did you get your own back?' Rhian chews her lip.

Lucas thinks of the service. Of pounding down an alley, revolver tight in hand. Of adrenaline rushes and the triumph of solving a case. 'In a way,' he says quietly and then smiles.

'I suppose I'd better be going.' He fixes Rhian with a low gaze. 'This evening's been nice. Thank you.'

He leans forward and puts his hand on her arm, lips brushing hers softly. He's surprised by the tension in her shoulder, so much she's almost shaking, but says nothing.

'We'll have to meet up again,' when she speaks, her voice is normal.

'Yep,' Lucas smiles. 'Phone me.'

As he turns and opens the door, a note that's been stuck to the hall table catches his eye. But it's not the content that makes Lucas' heart jolt and his chest tighten painfully.

He closes the door behind him, and stands outside for a second, hands clenched. There had been something sickeningly familiar about the handwriting.

* * *

**I hope I've managed to capture Lucas' mixed emotions here. It was tricky to know exactly how he'd react... I've got big plans for this fic, so hopefully it won't be too long till I update.**

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**Xanthemj - Thanks for the comments - I've been watching too much NCIS - John DOe just slips off my tongue. Hope this chapter gives you a glimpse of Rhian's troubled situation. **

**BeanieSgirl - Glad you enjoyed the chapter - hope this one keeps you intrigued.**

**BritishNinjaChick - Your worries weren't unfounded - we're going to find more about Rhian as we go on, so stay with us! **

**EmmaLeigh92 - Thanks for your review! I'm so happy you're enjoying it - I tend to torture myself over the plot - so I have some things up my sleeve. Hope you liked this chapter.**

**zelofheda -B - Thank you so much for your really encouraging reviews. It's so nice to know you're enjoying and paying attention :P As you saw, things have developed, and I hope this chapter worked for you can see, Rhian is a little more complex than you first think.**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Hope you enjoyed this- Keep pestering me!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Access.

Jo glances up as Lucas and Ros enter the grid the next morning, both cradling mugs of coffee, and both with the strained, hardened look they get when a case is on the rocks. Lucas' face is drawn, and Ros only offers Jo a curt nod and a short, 'Morning.' Before she slides into her chair and starts flicking through emails and paperwork, the mug steaming on the coaster.

Lucas however, walks over and leans on the edge of Jo's desk.

'How are things?' he asks after a while, looking at her carefully.

Jo's fingers trace over her keyboard. 'Fine.' She glances up at him. 'You?'

Lucas gives a half smile and looks down at his coffee. 'Fine, I think.'

'You think?' Jo presses, more for the sake of continuing the conversation than out of any real concern for Lucas. He's too distant for her. She can never tell what he's thinking, and that puts her on edge. She's got to know Ros, but Lucas is something new, someone new. And he's replacing Adam, and she won't forgive him for that.

'Oh, you know, settling back in. It's all a bit daunting,' says Lucas, a smile playing about his lips. 'I'm still trying to work out how my mobile works.'

Jo manages a laugh.

But Lucas leans closer. 'About Adam, Jo. I know you've been through a lot this year, and Adam meant a lot to you. If you ever need to talk-'

'I do talk,' she cuts him off bluntly; she doesn't need his sympathy. He's broken. Why can't he show it? How can he keep such a flawless impression, when everyone's tiptoeing round her like she's about to shatter. It irritates her, and she turns away slightly, leaving Lucas to talk to her back.

'I'm sure,' he says quietly. 'The offers still there. I don't mean to…' he falters. 'I'm not trying to replace Adam, Jo. I just need to know there's no bad blood between us.'

Jo fiddles with the cuff of her sleeve. 'No bad blood,' she agrees tonelessly.

Lucas pushes himself away from her desk, biting the inside of his lip unconsciously, and finding his own chair. He can feel the acute pain of a headache forming at his temples and closes his eyes, scraping a hand through his hair. Ever since his date with Rhian, Lucas can't get the note out of his head. A part of him doesn't want to believe what his memory's telling him. But he's seen the handwriting before, on Osmanovic's kitchen table. The 'sorry' had been scrawled in the same writing as the telephone number on Rhian's hall table.

She had been close by when he had been chasing after the car, but that was surely a co-incidence? Lucas rubs his brow tiredly, and forces the thought to the back of his mind. He won't implicate her.

_Concentrate_. He grinds the thought into his head. The case is what he should be focusing on.

'Ros?' he asks suddenly. 'Have we had any update on Osmanovic?'

'Nothing,' she says, glancing up and casting him a raised eyebrow. The unspoken, _no thanks to you_, hanging in the air.

Lucas stands and walks round to the centre of the cluster of desks. 'What's the threat level at the moment? Have we got any murmurings of an attack of some sort, any chatter to do with the Russians? Connie?'

Connie glances at Ben, who shakes his head. 'Well, I've heard nothing over the airwaves, and they've no indication if they do suspect.' Connie's mouth twists. 'Maybe it's just time to admit we've hit a dead end.'

Harry strides in, collected as ever. 'I've just had a conversation with Russia's new top man at the Embassy, Sergei Radimov. He's concerned about rumors of a group planning on targeting the Russian Embassy in Kensington. He's asked me to confirm these rumors are not true. So until we get any solid evidence on the Brotherhood, our Russian relations are going to be shaky to say the least.'

'Not so much of a change from the ordinary, then,' Connie comments drily.

'But surely if there's been rumors, there's got to be more to it? Unless the Russian's are planning on shooting themselves in the foot? Organising an attack on their own embassy and then blaming it on us…' Jo glances at her colleagues.

'It's not beyond the realm of possibility,' Connie raises her eyebrows slightly.

When the phone on Ros' desk rings, they all stare.

Ros picks it up quickly.

'Hello?' A pause. Ros' lips tighten. 'How did you get this number?'

She reaches across and presses speaker phone, setting the handset back.

'It's not important,' says a foreign male voice down the line. 'You want some information, concerning the brotherhood?'

'Is this Mr Osmanovic?' Lucas sits on Ros' desk, hands between his knees.

'Yes, where can we meet?'

Lucas glances round at Harry, who nods.

'The Foreman Cafe, Embankment. 12 noon tomorrow.'

'You'll come alone?'

'I'll come alone,' Lucas rocks back on his hands, eyebrows furrowed.

'Good.' The phone buzzes with dead air, and the team all glance at one another. Another step.

* * *

Lucas leans against the lift wall, and eases his mind for a second, closing his eyes and rubbing his mouth against his hand. _Just ring her. _Says apart of him suddenly. _Ring her and ask. _His hand lingers round his phone.

'Rhian?' He asks, once the dialing has stopped.

'Lucas,' she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice.

'How are you?' Lucas passes through the lift doors and through into the marble foyer, his shoes snapping smartly on the stone floor.

'I'm alright thanks, paracetamol are the love of my life.'

Normally, Lucas would have found something to say to that, and a suggestive smirk would have lifted his mouth. But he's not in the mood for flirting. He needs to ask her some questions.

'Listen Rhian, are you free tomorrow?'

'After twelve, yes.'

'Can you meet me tomorrow afternoon? I'd like to talk.'

'Sure, where?'

Lucas stops on the steps outside Thames House, and glances up and down the street.

'The Foreman cafe, at 12.45. Is that alright?' He can't keep the tension out of his voice, and prays she doesn't notice. If she does, she says nothing.

'Sounds good to me, but Lucas, I'm hopeless with timing. I'll probably be late,' she laughs at herself.

'It's fine. See you then,' Lucas finishes smartly, ending the call.

The man who had crouched to tie his shoelace on the pavement by Lucas straightens and walks on. Lucas' gaze follows him down the street, ice blue eyes sharp.

_Stop being so bloody paranoid. _He tells himself firmly.

* * *

**12:00 noon the next day.**

Lucas leans back in his chair outside the cafe and scans the crowd. So far there's been no sign of Osmanovic and Lucas' coffee has cooled till it's near undrinkable. His nose wrinkles ever so slightly as he forces himself to pick up the mug and take a sip.

There's a couple next to him, laughing and talking about nothing. Everything. Lucas finds he envies them. This surprises him. As an only child, he had always been content with his own company. Even when he had married Elizabeta, he had needed his own time. To sit and be alone. Eight years on and off solitary confinement had taught him he could deal with being alone. To a certain extent. Lucas rubs a hand across his brow. Alone too long? Maybe…

He glances up, starts and then inwardly curses.

A pair of hard brown eyes meet his gaze and the man opposite sits up a little in his chair.

Lucas speaks first. 'Mr Osmanovic?'

A curt nod.

'Robert Wheeler,' Lucas offers his alias. 'What do you have for me?'

'You want to know about the Brotherhood,' says Osmanovic, and although it's a statement, Lucas feels he should answer.

'Yes.' He leans forward, arms resting on the table, head on one side. 'What do you have?'

'Before I tell you anything, I want protection. These people are dangerous. It's not just the Brotherhood, the FSBs on my back.'

'We'll see to that,' Lucas says calmly.

'You make sure you do,' Osmanovic leans easily back in his chair, and Lucas takes the time to commit his face to memory. Not a tall man, Osmanovic has an air of confidence about him. Stocky and dark haired, with a wide mouth and a square jaw, he watches Lucas across the table, tongue wetting his lips.

'They're all ex-FSB prisoners, fueled by their hatred of the regime. They asked me to join, wanted someone with contacts. But I refused. Thats when they got nasty,' he runs the index finger of his left hand over the stumps on his right where his forefinger, third and little finger should be.

Lucas' jaw tightens, but he says nothing, waiting for Osmanovic to go on.

'They're angry, they want their revenge.'

'Revenge is all very well, but I've never heard of it generating nuclear weapons by itself,' Lucas cuts in, one eyebrow arching. 'Who's funding them? Where are they getting the money to pay for this?'

Osmanovic looks uncomfortable. 'They don't have them yet. Thats the problem. They've lost their secret keeper. As a sort of safeguard against FSB intervention, they gave the most unlikely member of the group the information concerning the whereabouts of the weapons. That way if the cell was compromised, it would be easier to disguise the weapons whereabouts than if everybody knew. But he's bottled out, and they're furious.'

Lucas thins his lips and says nothing. Thinking.

'They're under the impression he's told someone, and they're desperate to plant the bomb before anyone else can get to them.'

'So who did he tell?'

'We don't know. Could be anyone, member of the public, family, colleague. But the Brotherhoods desperate to find them, whoever they are. They watch everything.'

Lucas nods. 'Where are they?'

'The cell?' Osmanovic shrugs. 'They came to my house, I'm no wiser than you.'

Lucas frowns. 'This bomb. Whose is it?'

'Not theirs.' Osmanovic glances round. 'I reckon it's been stolen. From a military base somewhere. You do the digging.'

Lucas smiles and nods. 'Is that all?'

'Yep, thats all you're getting out of me.'

Lucas' smile disappears. 'You know more?' he asks sharply.

'No,' Osmanovic's eyes betray nothing. 'I just want out.' He stands. 'I contact you. Not the other way round.'

Lucas doesn't get up, just watches Osmanovic as he melts in with the crowd. What's he found out? Not much… Just more threats and worries and no more leads or names.

He closes his eyes.

'Lucas..?' asks a cautious voice from in front of him.

Lucas' eyes snap open and his mouth curves into a relaxed smile as Rhian slides into the seat the other side of the table.

'Hey,' he says, noting the dark rings under her eyes silently. 'What can I get you?'

'I wouldn't say no to a Cappuccino,' she smiles, but it's fragile.

Lucas finds himself wondering whether he can confront her like this; she looks like she might break. He keeps his eyes on her as she sips the coffee and asks him about work, waiting for her to betray something of what's going on behind. He hates having to lie. It feels like he's lost her already, each falsehood is pushing her further and further away.

He leans forward and places his hand over hers. 'Something on your mind Rhian?' he asks softly, his fingers tracing over her knuckles.

She looks like she's about to say something, then shakes her head. 'Nothing, I'm fine.' She sounds it. But Lucas doesn't believe the lightness in her voice and keeps her hand in his. He finds himself looking at her closely, her bottom lip pulled in as she chews on it, cheeks a little flushed from the cold and her green eyes downcast.

'How old are you?' he asks, suddenly curious.

Rhian glances up quickly. 'I find that a rather forward question,' she teases.

Lucas raises an eyebrow.

'Lets just say I'm younger than you.' Rhian laughs.

Lucas smirks and twines their fingers together.

'You wanted to talk?' Rhian asks, and Lucas notices her eyes stray to the tattoo now visible on his wrist.

He looks at her, part of him wondering what she's hiding and the other just wishing he could see her as everyone else must. Wishing he could stop trying to find the things that other people don't notice, and just make her smile properly. Make her happy.

He shakes his head. 'It can wait,' he says, and stands. 'Why don't we go for a walk?'

Rhian casts him an odd look, and then smiles. 'You're a strange man Lucas North.'

* * *

The man leaning against the railings straightens and watches as the tall agent with the shock of dark hair and the young woman with the sad smile walk down the street, his fingers reaching out to tangle with hers.

A good disguise, but as he reaches for his phone he feels a leap of triumph that he found her. He found the missing piece.

He texts quickly.

_Found her. We're good to go._

Peitr will be happy.

* * *

**08:20 that evening**

Lucas found the words had just tumbled from his mouth, before he could stop to think about it. After eight years without, he realised he couldn't stop thinking about the warmth of Rhian's hand in his own. He won't stop now.

Dinner at eight. That was what he had agreed. Just to be near her again, and to talk, he reminded himself, he had to talk to her.

But it's 8.20 and there's still no sign of her.

Lucas paces the length of his kitchen again, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up and rubbing his jaw anxiously.

She's just late. He tells himself firmly. She said she was bad with timings. She'll be here soon.

Minutes pass.

Lucas leans against the work surface and glances out the window. Dark has long since fallen, and he can no longer see the clouds that are scudding high overhead.

He checks his phone. No message.

Something's wrong. Lucas knows by the ache in his lower back. The painful tightening in his gut. The unease he feels as he glances at the door once more. He frowns and picks up his mobile again, dialing her number quickly.

By the fourth ring he knows she's not answering.

He's grabbed up his car keys and is out the door before he's sure what he's doing. All he knows is that he needs to make sure she's Ok.

Five minutes later he's skidding up to the kerb outside her flat, eyes scanning the street quickly as he flings open the car door and jogs up to the front door. The houses are quiet either side, and Lucas automatically slows his breathing as he mounts the stairs, hand flickering to the holster jammed against his hip. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he feels his mouth drying as he reaches the landing, praying he's overreacting.

Rhian's doors been smashed off it's hinges, the panels splintered and shards of glass littering the floor.

Lucas clenches the revolver tightly and whips his head round the door.

Her flat is a mess of broken glass and overturned furniture, and Lucas strides through, pushing all the doors open and scanning each room before walking back through into the middle of the sitting room, hands shaking imperceptibly.

She's gone.

Osmanovic's words are echoed in his head.

_Could be anyone- But the Brotherhoods desperate to find them, whoever they are… They watch everything…_

Realisation dawns on Lucas, bleak and unforgiving, like the winter mornings in Russia.

'Shit.'

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**Hope you guys enjoyed this, and I'm sorry about the delay! We'll just have to see what's happened to Rhian next chapter. I'm hoping everyone was in character... It's hard making sure they are - I have to keep playing it out in my head to make sure the dialogue fits. :P**

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**BeanieSgirl - Thank you! Hope this chapter lives up to expectations.**

**Name isn't Arria - Glad you liked the twist! Plenty more to come... *grins happily***

**BritishNinjaChick - I agree! Lucas always picks the wrong girl.. coughsarahcaulfeildcough But don't worry, I have loads up my sleeve - things may work out!**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Thank you for the review, I'm grinning happily that I tricked you all. I love putting in twists. I'm not finished messing with my characters lives just yet...**

**EmmaLeigh92 - Thank you so much for your really encouraging review! I hope this chapter worked, as I'm trying to keep it as close to the format of the show as I can. I think the short scenes and the snapshots of action work really well on the Tv, and I think they transfer well... **

**Zelohfeda-B - You're smack on about Yan - you will see just how creepy he really is later. Rhian is a good actor, but part of her is desperate to tell Lucas about the mess she's in. I agree about the Cyrillic, but as you'll see the problems a little closer to home than Lucas would like. And don't worry about the dithering :P It's so nice to know someone's that involved in your story. Hope this chapter worked for you!**

**Xanthemj - The plot does indeed thicken! It'll be getting decidedly gloopier before the end, so stay with us!**

**Christini - I'm so glad you're enjoying it - it's so lovely when people are enthusiastic! And thank you for your really kind review for Childsplay - unfortunately Traitors Gate's on hold for a bit whilst I let this fic take over my fanfiction life :P.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

Shattered.

Harry has just entered the grid when Malcolm comes hurrying up holding a brown file and looking oddly strained. Harry takes the file silently and flicks through, glancing up at his analyst inquiringly.

'Well?'

'I've got back the tests for the note,' Malcolm passes the slip of paper to Harry. 'And there's nothing on it, the only fingerprints were yours, and the handwritings brought nothing up. I can tell you the ink is blue biro, probably from a cheap Smiths pen. But otherwise nothing.'

'Professional job?' Harry asks.

'Looks like it.'

'Then I should be worried,' Harry suddenly looks tired, older. 'Thank you Malcolm.' He closes the file and walks through to his office, loosening his tie.

He's just about to lower himself into his chair, when his desk phone rings. Sighing slightly, he reaches across and picks it up.

'Harry Pearce,' he says.

Lucas' voice tumbles down the line, sharp with worry. 'Harry, I've been a right idiot. I'm out of my depth here. I-'

'Lucas!' Harry cuts across him forcefully. 'Get in here and explain in person.'

There's a hard silence down the other end of the phone, and Harry hears Lucas breath out heavily. 'On my way.'

* * *

'I know Peitr Saitov,' says Lucas.

Harry stares. 'You told me you didn't.'

Lucas' gaze flickers. 'I lied.'

'You lied about knowing the only lead we have on this case? You'd better have a good explanation for this.'

Lucas slumps down into the chair opposite Harry's desk. He looks ill, face even paler than ever and he has the air of a man resigned to his own impending doom. 'I knew him in Russia. He was my cell mate when I wasn't in solitary confinement. He gave me most of my tattoos.' He swallows. 'I didn't want to admit I knew him, because I knew I'd have confront it. To relive it. I'm not ready for that yet Harry.'

Harry says nothing for a moment, before sitting silently and placing his hands on his desk. 'Lucas if you're not ready to deal with your past, I may have made the mistake of bringing you back too quickly.'

But Lucas' eyes have flashed. 'No! Harry this isn't about me.'

'I'm afraid it is Lucas,' Harry begins, but Lucas cuts him off.

'I should have told you about Saitov, but thats not why I'm here.' He stands, running a hand through his dark hair distractedly. 'I've got someone involved who should never have been involved. The girl I knocked over, Rhian, we've seen each other a couple of times. I agreed to meet her tonight, but she never turned up. I went to her flat to find it's been trashed. She's gone.' Harry realises how worn Lucas looks, and finds himself biting back a scalding comment.

'Lucas you should have told me about this relationship,' Harry reprimands him quietly, and his eyes meet Ros' through the glass panel of his office. She shoots him an inquiring look, but Harry shakes his head.

'I know…' The younger man puts his head in his hands. 'I know, Harry. But you can punish me later. We need to find her.'

Harry surveys Lucas carefully. 'You're sure she's gone?'

'She's not answering her phone. Christ, Harry you should see the state of her flat.' Lucas rests his forehead against the glass, and closes his eyes briefly. 'It's my fault. It's my fault they have her.'

'Now Lucas, before you go jumping to any conclusions, perhaps we should have a look into this girl's background,' Harry beckons to Ros, who stands smoothly and enters the office a few seconds later.

'Is there a problem?'

Harry glances at Lucas, who swallows. 'Rhian McKenzie, my girlfriend-' The words sounds alien to his mouth, even more now there's a gap where she should be. 'I think she's been kidnapped.'

'By?' Ros' lips purse.

'The Brotherhood.'

Ros leans easily against Harry's desk. 'You're sure?'

'No, I'm not bloody sure,' Lucas says agitatedly, twisting away from the window and clenching his hands on the back of his chair. 'All I know, is that I meet Osmanovic. He tells me that the Brotherhood are after someone with the crucial information concerning the whereabouts of their weapons. Tells me it could be anyone. I arrange to meet Rhian this evening only to find her flats been wrecked and she's not answering her phone. What sort of conclusions am I meant to be jumping to here?' Lucas' lip curls and he looks down, pinching hard on the bridge of his nose.

Harry observes his agent quietly.

'Lucas I think you should go home and get some sleep, I'll send a team round in the morning to have a look at Rhian's flat.'

Lucas opens his mouth, as if to object, then closes it and looks down.

He's by the door when Harry calls him back.

'Lucas!'

Lucas turns, fingers still on the door handle.

'I'm taking you off this case, you're too emotionally involved. I want to you to go for another checkup with Stephen and a couple of weeks rest, hopefully it'll clear your head.'

Lucas' face darkens, but he says nothing, just turns and closes the door a little more forcefully than usual.

Harry sighs and eases himself into his chair.

'Was that a good idea?' Ros asks, watching as Lucas exits through the pods, his face unreadable.

'It was the only idea I had,' Harry rubs his brow. 'I'm worried I'm working him too hard, Ros. He was a good agent, but how do I know how far I can push him before he's damaged beyond repair?'

Ros lets out a breath. 'Like you told me Adam said, you can't just bring him in and then leave him out in the cold.'

'You think I made the wrong choice?'

'I think you did what you thought was right.' Ros glances at Lucas' desk.

For some reason, her answer gives Harry no peace.

* * *

Lucas shifts uncomfortably in the chair, drumming his fingers in his impatience.

'How much longer Stephen?' he asks testily.

But Stephen merely raises an eyebrow and flicks a page over in his notepad.

'Just one more exercise.' Stephen watches Lucas carefully. 'Answer as quickly as possible, the first word that comes into your head.'

'Go ahead then.' Lucas' voice betrays his annoyance.

'Cold.'

Lucas thinks of his torture.'Water.'

'Child.'

A small boy in a big house. 'Vulnerable.'

'Old.'

Ghosts, haunting, faces at his shoulder. 'Enemies.'

'Ink.'

'Necessity.'

'Death.'

'Waste.'

'Pure.'

'Tainted.'

'Woman.'

'Rhian.'

'Abuse-'

Lucas snaps in a breath and glances out the window. 'Eight years,' he murmurs, voice barely audible.

After a pause, Stephen's pen stops scribbling.

'Thank you Lucas, I think that'll be all,' Stephen gives him a reassuring smile which Lucas does not return. 'I'll see you in three weeks time.'

Lucas stands. 'Yep.'

He doesn't look round as he leaves. Why should he care what a shrink thinks? So long as he's in control of his senses, thats all he cares about. Silently, Lucas tries his seven times table and then manages to smile at himself. Still there for now.

As he steps out into the street, he realises a plan has already been forming in his mind. A sense of purpose enters him, and he walks a little taller. He might be off work, but thats not going to stop him from trying his hardest to get Rhian back.

* * *

Malcolm flicks the switch for the kettle and settles himself on a chair at the kitchen table, fingers tapping. When he's at home, he craves for work, and when he's work he worries about home.

'Mum!' He calls, knowing she won't hear him over the noise from the television. 'Did you want tea?'

When there's no reply Malcolm smiles sadly and rubs his brow.

He's caught by surprise when his phone rings.

'Hello?'

'Malcolm it's Lucas.'

Immediately Malcolm is suspicious; he recognises the tone of Lucas' voice, from the cool headed young recruit he had met all those years ago. Recognises it from all the meetings with Adam; that same drive. Except Lucas has changed, a new recklessness burns in him, and Malcolm realises he's going to have to work hard to keep his mouth shut.

'Lucas,' he tries to sound normal. 'Shouldn't you be resting?'

'Come on Malcolm, you know as well as I do that I'm still fit for work,' his voice is warm, but Malcolm can hear the tension in it.

'Well, thats not what Harry seems to think,' Malcolm stands and puts his hand on the kettle which doesn't seem to be boiling.

'We all know Harry can get things wrong sometimes…'

'Lucas-' Malcolm warns, sitting heavily back in his chair.

'I need to know about any updates on the case, Malcolm.'

'I don't think-'

But Lucas cuts in, his voice tight. 'Listen Malcolm, Rhian's out there, totally alone, terrified, with a group of men who'll do god knows what to her, and it's my fault.' He pauses, and Malcolm hears him suck in a ragged breath. 'I need you to tell me what the team have got. I have to find her.'

Malcolm picks at the edge of the kitchen table. 'We've got an email address, which appears to be connected to the Brotherhood; several plausible traces. But I don't think-'

'Give it to me.' Lucas' voice is forceful, final.

'I-'

'Please, Malcolm. Please.'

* * *

When Rhian wakes, the pain in her head is the first thing to cut through the fog. It's like a nail, being driven into the base of her skull, acute, piercing. If it weren't for the gag in her mouth she would scream, but she can't even move. Her hands are somewhere behind her, and her legs somewhere infront of her. Everything's too hazy to tell. All she knows is that she's alone.

Her first thoughts flicker to Yan. Some sick trick of his, his way of telling her she's not moving fast enough, that she's not giving him what he wants.

Wincing, she closes her eyes.

Perhaps he found out. Perhaps he knows. But Rhian can't do anything about it now, all she can do is sit and wait till someone comes.

Somewhere distant, a door slams open. There's footsteps, and then they stop.

Rhian cracks open her eyes again.

More of the room appears this time, and it's not as empty as it was before.

There are pipes up the walls, and paintwork peeling. She can't see the floor, but the hard seat of the chair digging into her tailbone is suddenly painfully obvious. There's a light somewhere above her, and she can hear the drip of water.

And the man.

He's standing about a meter in front of her, dark eyes taking in her every detail.

'Who are you? Hey?'

He slaps her cheek, gently.

Rhian says nothing. If Yan is behind this, she won't break.

'Do you know who I am?'

Another pause, and Rhian swallows dryly, her mouth clamped shut.

'Do you know what you're doing here?'

Another slap.

He seems to consider her for a moment, before taking another step closer.

Rhian forces herself to stare back at him, and finds if she concentrates on keeping her gaze steady, the throbbing in her head recedes slightly.

'I said, do you know what you're doing here?'

The slap is harder this time, and already Rhian can feel her cheek beginning to burn.

'What do you know about us?'

Rhian closes her eyes as he backhands her across the jaw.

'Do you know the whereabouts of the weapon?' He hisses.

Rhian shudders and bites her lip.

'Look, you tell me where it is, and I'll be kinder to you than if you don't.' His voice is barely above a whisper, but it echoes in Rhian's head.

She opens her eyes and looks right at him. She doesn't want his kindness, doesn't need his sympathy. She'll say nothing.

One thought comes to mind before the man hits her again.

Lucas, where's Lucas?

* * *

**I'm not 100% happy about this chapter, but I'd love to know what you think. I knew that Harry was going to remove Lucas from the case, but I realised how desperate he'd be to prove, to himself more than anyone, that he's still capable of being a good agent. Plus, as we all know, he's pretty impulsive and reckless. I also realised, he was more likely to pick on a member of the team who is more impressionable, and one he knew relatively well - Malcolm seemed the obvious sympathetic choice.**

**And if I don't manage to update soon -**

**Merry Christmas!**

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**BeanieSgirl - Thank you! Your support is greatly appreciated :)**

**EmmaLeigh92 - Here's the next chapter for you! So glad you're enjoying the story.**

**NIA - Aha, many more twists I fear... Thanks for the review.**

**Afia - Thanks for your wonderful review! I'm glad I've managed to everyone just about in character, and as you'll see, all shall be revealed soon... **

**Zelofheda-B - No, not good for his mental health. Poor Lucas, but don't worry - we have much more excitement coming. **

**Xanthemj- Thank you! It's lovely when someone's so enthusiastic.**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Yes, I suppose Lucas does tend to manipulate people, but he never means to harm those he cares about, which is why it's so sad! Thanks for your review.**

**BritishNinjaChick - So happy you're enjoying it! And I agree, poor Rhian, but don't worry - our favourite spy will be appearing soon to help her out.**

**Duk92 - Hey! Thanks for joining us. To be honest, I'm uber excited about where this story is going too! So it's great to know other people are! Hope you liked this update.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven.

Cold.

Lucas hasn't slept. He had sent the email about three in the morning and now he's sitting at his desk, head in hands, waiting.

He feels weak and tired. All the energy and drive has left him, and he wonders for a moment if it was good idea. But the thought of Rhian, cold, terrified, and alone keeps his eyes open.

Only fifteen more minutes.

He paces, dragging on his jacket and walking the length of his hallway, again and again and again. The sound of his steady footsteps like a mantra, soothing his mind and allowing him to shed a little of the sleep that threatens to overcome him. He rolls his shoulders, rubs a hand across his mouth and then glances at the clock.

Two minutes.

He can risk being early.

He checks the holster at his hip, and his fingers linger for a second on the grip of his revolver. Then he's out the door, the lock clicking behind him, and down the stairs two at a time, into the weak sunlight of an early London morning.

Lucas walks quickly, slipping past the people on the tube and standing with his back to the crowd, feeling strangely weightless. His mouth is drying and he feels his heart jolt a little in his chest by the time he's reached the top of the escalator. He's not sure if he's going to be able to keep his cool, but he mounts the steps of Russell Square tube station quickly and turns right, into the road.

He stops when he reaches the corner of the street, having suddenly lost the ability to breathe. The man's standing by the park railings, and Lucas can tell even from this distance that it's Peitr.

He forces himself to walk on.

He's directly behind Peitr before he speaks, wets his lips briefly with his tongue.

'Здравствуй, старый друг,' Lucas says smartly, knowing if he doesn't exude confidence this will never work.

Peitr turns quickly, the surprise obvious on his face, and Lucas doesn't fail to notice his hand has flown to the holster concealed under his jacket.

As Lucas looks at him, he's back in his cell, the stark walls bricking out the trees behind Peitr, the familiar rancid smell flooding his nose, overpowering the scents of petrol and damp earth. But Peitr's gaze is shrewder, crows feet cage his eyes and his cheekbones are more pronounced, a darkness has settled over his brow and his hair is cropped. The change in him is enough for Lucas to shake away the memories, and slowly the empty boughs of the trees appear behind him again.

'Lucas-' A smile spreads over Peitr's thin face. 'Well, well, well. Lucas North. Now here's a face I didn't think I'd see again.' He slaps Lucas lightly on the cheek.

Lucas winces imperceptibly. 'Peitr,' he masks his discomfort with a smile. 'You received my message.'

'You took a risk, I might not have come.' That sharp toothed smile. Lucas looks away.

'Lets walk,' he indicates the path, and they start down it, Peitr walking a little behind Lucas, making the hairs on the back of Lucas' neck stand on end. He forces himself to relax.

'I needed to talk to you, Peitr.'

'Obviously.'

Lucas turns to him. 'I want to join the brotherhood.'

If Peitr is surprised, he doesn't show it.

'Sit down, Lucas.'

It's an order, and Lucas slides onto the bench unwillingly.

'Why?' Peitr leans easily back into his seat, dark eyes never leaving Lucas' face, not once.

Lucas looks down for second. 'They took away everything,' he swallows, pacing his argument. 'I lost eight years of my life to them, eight years that I can't replace. Mi5 won't let me have my revenge. They think revenge is weakness, that it's an expression of pain. Maybe it is. But I've lost too much to them to be able to forgive. I've even lost my wife-' It's all spilling from him now. Now he's started, Lucas finds he can't bear the flood of bitterness that fills him as he speaks. 'I lost Vyeta, and I can't go on without someone paying.' He looks up at Peitr. 'You understand?'

Peitr's nodding. 'I understand Lucas, I understand.'

'Let me help,' Lucas says softly, holding his breath as Peitr quietens. He closes his eyes.

'Alright.' Another white flash of skull as Peitr smiles. 'One step out of line though, and you'll be back in that hell.'

Lucas starts up from the bench, but Peitr grabs his arm roughly and drags his sleeve up. The coiled tattoo twining round Lucas' wrist is plainly visible.

'Still got them then? They'll be worth something soon,' and he laughs at his own joke.

Lucas swallows down a wave of nausea and follows Peitr back down the path, toward the road.

* * *

Ros glances at Harry, who is sitting at the far end of the conference table, scanning through a folder of documents.

'Harry, if Lucas is right and Rhian has been taken by the brotherhood, surely there's going to be some sort of lead.' Her lips thin.

'Well, there's certainly something.' Harry stands and turns on the screen at the far end of the room. 'The only connection I've found with Rhian Mackenzie, is to an agent in Mi5.'

The screen flickers to life, and a profile comes into focus.

'Paul Fletcher, a senior case officer down on floor six. Missing for the past month and a half. Rhian MacKenzie was his vetted partner, still is as far as 5 are concerned.'

'You think Lucas knows?' Jo looks at the picture of Paul. He's young and determined looking, a set jaw and dark, discerning eyes. But there's still an eagerness about him, a brightness to his expression, and a slight smile pulling at his mouth. Jo can tell that the service hasn't damaged him yet, at least not when this picture was taken. Maybe that smile's gone now, she thinks.

'I shouldn't think he'd be one to rush into a relationship if he realised the girl was involved with someone else,' says Ros, glancing at the others for confirmation.

Harry nods. 'But why wouldn't she tell him? From all the background we've got on her she seems like a lively, bright girl, and she was in love with Paul.'

Jo leans forwards. 'Well, Paul's been missing. Who was he investigating? Who's to say they're not using Rhian?'

Harry flicks through the file again, the creases on his brow deepening. 'Paul was doing some quiet research looking into unknown FSB assets recently assigned to the UK. I suppose it's not beyond the realms of possibility that Rhian's being used to get to Lucas.' He leans back in his chair. 'Ros, what would you suggest?'

'Get a team to go over the flat in the light of recent discoveries, take a closer look at Paul's disappearance and find out what's happened to Rhian,' she looks round, cool as ever. 'That enough for everyone to be getting on with?'

The team are filing out, chatting quietly, when Harry suddenly turns to them.

'Anyone heard from Lucas?'

Malcolm pales imperceptibly, but Jo turns back and unknowingly saves him from suspicion.

'No, should we have?'

'No, no thats fine,' Harry smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. 'I'll give him a call later.'

* * *

Lucas gives up his revolver with a sinking feeling in his gut. Peitr is watching him from a distance, apparently talking to a man Lucas vaguely recognises as Alexi Platov, another face from prison. And now he's looking, Lucas begins to dredge up the memories of other faces, older, harsher, but distantly familiar. He wonders if they know him. Prays they don't.

Peitr finishes his conversation and makes his way over to Lucas.

'We're all friends here Lucas,' he puts a hand on his shoulder and Lucas has to tense to stop himself from shaking it off. 'There'll be no need for your gun.'

Lucas notices warily that several of his 'friends' still have gun shaped bulges under their jackets, but says nothing.

'So,' Peitr's still talking. 'What do you think?' He indicates the large warehouse.

'Impressive,' says Lucas truthfully.

There are men everywhere, dressed in dark military style uniforms, all, Lucas notes, with similar tattoos to himself. They're loading vehicles with packs and munition, hurrying from the doors to the side, their boots ringing out on the concrete.

'Let me show you inside.'

Lucas nods, and smiles as graciously as he can. A voice inside his head is warning him, _watch your back, _in a cool calculating voice, but Lucas brushes it away. He can sense how close he is to Rhian, and even though he has no idea how he's going to get her out, he feels a thrill of triumph that he's managed this much.

The interior of the building is sparse, and tells of necessity, no home comforts here. As soon as Lucas feels the corridor close around him, he has to focus his eyes on the back of Peitr's jacket to keep himself moving.

The walls are the same colour. He realises with a jolt. Had Peitr done it on purpose? He almost laughs at himself. Of course he hadn't. But they're the same grey as the corridors back in Russia, and to Lucas it feels like they're crushing him.

'Your room-'

A door to his right is pushed open and Lucas gets a glimpse of a low bunk and a chair before the door swings back.

Peitr obviously has something else planned for the meantime.

They push through a pair of double doors into a large open room, a trestle table set in the centre, with chairs strewn around it.

One man stands up when Peitr enters, the others remain seated, and Peitr waves the standing man down.

'Gentlemen, we have an addition to our favored few,' Peitr smiles a confident, sharp smile. 'This is Lucas North, he's Mi5-'

Six guns are drawn at lightening speed and Lucas finds himself staring at six pairs of cold eyes, hands tight over the triggers of their guns.

But Peitr's laughing.

'Put them away boys,' he waves his hand at them. 'He's here to help. He was my cell mate in Russia.'

There's a tense silence.

'So you treat him with respect-' Peitr's eyes have flashed slightly, and there's a tone of menace in his voice.

All the men at the table step up smartly, and give Lucas and Peitr a sharp salute.

'Thats better.'

Lucas swallows. This man's dangerous, and unpredictable. However long he'd spent with Peitr he doesn't know him any better than the six men at the table

Lucas slides cautiously into a chair, and folds his arms across his chest. He's not about to let his guard down.

'How much further have you got with the girl?' Peitr has turned to the man next to him, speaking low in Russian and Lucas finds the familiar tightening of his chest at the realisation 'the girl' must be Rhian.

'Nothing,' comes the bitter reply. 'She's as stubborn as a mule. We've haven't had a peep out of her.'

Peitr notices Lucas looking and his eyebrows raise slightly.

'We've got a girl who knows the whereabouts of a weapon vital to our cause, without it, we've can't carry out the operation,' his mouth twists wryly. 'She's not being very talkative.'

Lucas forces himself to nod.

'I say we torture it out of her,' buts in a small man to Peitr's left.

'What? And become as cruel as them? No, all she needs is a little, gentle persuasion…' Peitr's eyes flicker to Lucas and back, dark with meaning. 'Bring her here,' he orders.

Lucas' hands fist, and he tenses in the chair, suddenly painfully aware that he's the only unarmed man in the room.

There are couple of moments of utter silence, and then the double doors slam open once more.

Rhian is between the two men, her head low and her hair tangled across her face, but she doesn't stumble as they push her forward.

Lucas feels his heart jolt in his chest when she looks up, one cheek bruised, the defiance still visible in her green eyes.

She doesn't see him at first. Her gaze flickers anxiously to Peitr, who sits, watching the scene carefully. But then her eyes scan the table, and find him.

Rhian can't help the small gasp that escapes her in a rush of air, as she locks eyes with the newcomer at the table. His pale blue gaze sears into her, pleading, begging her to keep quiet.

She drops her gaze, heart pounding.

He was here. He had come.

Peitr stands lazily, and walks towards Rhian, his gaze never wavering from her face.

'So-' he says, once they're less than a meter away. 'How are you feeling today?'

Rhian bites her tongue, opening the scar she had formed there yesterday after an hour of interrogation from Peitr. Blood floods her mouth.

'Ready to tell us where the weapon is?'

She stares at him, unblinkingly.

A muscle stands out on Peitr's jaw and a pulse thrums at his temple.

'Then perhaps you need a little persuasion-' he taps her lightly on the cheek.

Peitr nods at his men and Lucas finds his chair kicked from under him, the impact jarring his back and sending pain searing up his spine as he's forced to his knees.

'Tell us where it is,' spits Peitr. 'Or he dies.' His gun levels at Lucas.

Rhian freezes.

Lucas' eyes have met hers again from across the room, his gaze still steady. She shudders, and lets out a shaky breath, eyes welling with salt water.

'I don't know,' she whispers, a bead of blood lacing her lower lip.

'I'm sorry?' Peitr turns his ear toward her, mockingly, his gun still pointed at Lucas' head.

'I don't know,' she says a little louder, sucking in a ragged breath to calm herself.

Peitr's jaw clenches. 'Not good enough-' his finger tightens on the trigger.

'No!' Rhian shouts, voice hoarse. 'Don't kill him, don't- please!'

Peitr arches his head back deliberately, and turns his dark gaze back on Rhian. 'Then I'll say again, where is it?'

Rhian feels a sob rising in her throat. She's tired of being brave. Tired of having to turn the other cheek. 'I don't know where it is,' she says brokenly. There's nothing she can do. They'll never believe her.

Lucas watches her silently, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. He sees the terror in her eyes as her gaze flickers up to meet his again, and he flinches slightly at the realisation that this might be it. The end.

He tries a shaky smile, but she doesn't return it and another tear trails down her pale cheek. Peitr steps between them.

'Take her out,' he flicks his hand at Rhian, the gun still pointed at Lucas' head.

Rhian is bundled away, and the double doors swings shut.

An echo of silence. Then a gunshot.

* * *

**You guys know how much I love cliffhangers. :) Firstly, I should apologise for the appalling long delay. Secondly, Happy New Year! **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was tough to write, half because I'm out of practice due to the long break I've had from writing, and the other half because it was hard work. I've tried to make Peitr and his relationship with Lucas as believable as possible. Peitr is self confident, a little arrogant and sure of his position over Lucas, and very unpredictable. But he's a bit mixed up (as you would guess), he's against most forms of torture, due to his own experience, but he doesn't shy away from violence - so he walks a thin path between the two. Whilst Lucas was in Russia was him, and this would bring back traumatic memories, Peitr was one of the few people who didn't hurt Lucas whilst he was there, so there's mixed feelings going on. **

**Anyway! I hope it worked. Love y'all and all my little lurkers who don't leave reviews. :P**

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**BeanieSgirl - Lucas perhaps a little too close to danger for comfort! Thanks for your review, more to come!**

**BritishNinjaChick - exciting enough for you? Hope you enjoyed this chappie, and thanks for your support!**

**Duk92 - Of course Lucas would never just leave Rhian, we both knew he was going to try to get her out! Thanks so much for your review, and sorry for leaving you a cliffie.**

**EmmaLeigh92 - Thank you! Glad you liked the word association, it seemed the best thing to do for his appointment, seeing as I'm no expert in psychiatry! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**zelofheda-B - Hey! Thanks for your continued support, I always look forward to your review. Unfortunately Rhian's just a bit too stubborn for her own good, and she's not one for giving up easily. All shall be revealed about what she knows and what's going on with Yan soon!**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Hellooo, and thank you for your review. I hope you liked this chapter, and please don't murder me for leaving it on a nasty ending.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

Fated.

Lucas is still staring at the smoking gun-barrel, his mind whirring as he untangles what just happened. He's not dead. He knows that.

Peitr lowers his gun hand and drops his head. 'I can't kill you Lucas.' He admits quietly.

Lucas slumps forward, one hand covering his eyes, shaking slightly. That had been too close. He lets out a shaky breath and drags in another, Rhian's terrified gaze seared into his retina.

After a quiet moment, he pushes himself up and stands shakily, meeting Peitr's gaze as steadily as he can.

'That your idea of an initiation ceremony?' His voice is strangely calm.

Peitr's cheeks blanch, and Lucas searches his face quickly for an emotion of some sort.

Nothing.

Peitr's put the gun back in it's holster now, and Lucas feels a flush of confidence. Peitr can't kill him; he's still alive and he knows Rhian is too - for the mean time at least. He folds his arms across his chest, partly to balance him, partly to hide his shaking hands.

'Do you think it would have worked? Do you think she would have talked?'

Peitr's eyes have returned to their unreadable dark grey.

'Who knows?' he shrugs non-comittally. 'I suppose we'll never know, she's stronger than she looks, eh?'

Lucas is quick to reply. 'I wouldn't know,' he lies subtly.

They're quiet for a moment, long enough for Lucas to hear the revving of car engines in the hanger outside.

'Let me see her - dead man talking, you never know, I might scare the answers out of her.' He smiles a rare, white smile.

Peitr looks at him strangely, and Lucas begins to wonder if Peitr suddenly suspects him. But Peitr shakes his head. 'You know Lucas, you've got such a head for criminality, I still wonder why you joined 5.'

Lucas laughs, but thinks, I joined five, because I know what they'll do next.

'Ok - Ok, I'll let you speak to her, but don't go to hard on her,' he gestures between himself and Lucas.

'Good cop, bad cop,' Lucas finishes for him, smirking slightly. After his brief encounter with death, he's feeling oddly alive.

* * *

Rhian is drained of tears. How was it she managed to lose not only one man in her life, but two? She scrapes her back down the wall, and crumples up, pressing her eyes into her knee caps and breathing in the other person smelling clothes.

Her own clothes have been replaced by an old tracksuit and a baggy long sleeved t-shirt, she sniffs and wipes her eyes on her cuff, swallowing hard.

Lucas is dead, she tells herself firmly, Lucas is dead and there's still a chance that Paul is alive.

But a little voice whispers,_ what use is Paul to Yan if Lucas is dead?_

Rhian bites her lip and buries her head in her arms.

She's not sure how long she sits, legs dragged up against her chest, but after a while she starts to notice the damp silence isn't so quiet as before. There are low male voices somewhere outside, and Rhian strains to hear what they're saying.

She gives up when she realises it's Russian, and closes her eyes again, blocking out the tiny, freezing room.

The door's opening before she registers it, and she keeps her eyes shut, as if not seeing them will make them go away somehow.

The low, quiet voice of Lucas North is the least thing she expects to hear.

A sudden sickness rises in her stomach, so powerful she can't hold it back or swallow it down. She retches sharply, bringing up nothing but acid, choking on the cloying taste. She gags three more times, hands gripping her stomach, feeling her face flare with heat.

'Easy, easy-'

Firm, warm hands slip round her shoulders as she leans forwards over her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She hunches for one last retch, her stomach heaving, the hands working in solid strokes up and down her back.

Exhausted, Rhian leans her head back against the wall, face flushed, her hands pushing her hair back from her forehead.

Lucas tugs her against him, a warm, tangible being enough to make her shudder with relief.

'I thought you were dead…' she whispers into his shoulder, fingers tangling in his shirt.

'No.'

'But-'

'He couldn't kill me, Ree. He couldn't kill me. He shot to miss.'

Her hands grip his forearm anxiously. 'You're not hurt?'

'No.'

'Why are you here?'

'To get you out.'

'No, I mean here.' She nods at the peeling walls. 'Why did they let you in?'

Lucas leans his head back against the wall, the pale column of his throat exposed. 'Because he trusts me, Peitr trusts me.'

Rhian is silent for a moment, and Lucas glances down at her.

'Are you alright?' It's a stupid question as soon as it's dropped from his mouth, and it falls like a pebble into a pool.

When Rhian doesn't answer, Lucas sits forward. 'I need you to tell Peitr where the weapons are.'

'But- Lucas I don't know! Do you think if I knew I would have let him shoot you? What's going on here Lucas, who are these people, what have you got to do with them?'

Lucas sighs. 'I know you don't know. I'll tell you everything, once I've got you out of here-'

'I think I have a right to know now!'

Lucas ignores her. 'You will tell Peitr, where the weapon is-'

'But-'

'You will tell him, where I tell you it is,' he glances at her. 'You understand?'

She nods. 'I'm sorry…'

Lucas frowns. 'Why?'

'For not having faith in you.'

Lucas has the sinking feeling that she's not just talking about his plan to get her out, but he ignores it.

He stands, and she does too, shakily.

'When they next ask, don't give it to them immediately. But when you do, tell them, the warehouses on the Old Evesham Road. Tell them thats all you know.'

When she looks up at him, her face is drained, dark, soft charcoal patches of tiredness have settled beneath her eyes.

'I swear to you Ree, I will get you out of here.' Lucas presses his lips softly to hers and holds her tight against him, feeling her shaking.

* * *

'Lucas isn't answering his phone.'

'I've checked his flat, he's not been there for days.'

'Not used his e-mail, or credit card, and we've had no trace of him on any public phones.'

Harry leans back wearily into his chair. 'He'll have gone looking for Rhian.'

Ros' mouth twists. 'Without his mobile? Even Lucas isn't that stupid.'

'Well he'll know it's us calling, maybe he doesn't want to talk.' Jo glances at Ben for support.

Ben shrugs. 'Maybe the Brotherhood have him too?'

Harry stands. 'Lucas aside, do we have any progress?'

Connie offers a file forward. 'I've looked into some files concerning new FSB affiliates that Paul was looking at, no-one that recently recruited has been sighted in the UK. However, there's a man reported to have been seen on a flight from Moscow to Heathrow.'

She picks up the remote control from the table and flicks on the screen.

'Yan Mizirov. He was a mole in the FSB, we've used him a couple of times in the past. But he got caught about eight years ago. He's reappeared and it seems the FSB are using him to their advantage.'

'In what way?' Ros, looks at the profile on the screen.

A man with a hawk like face, sharp gray eyes and a gaunt look to his gaze stares back. It's a prison photograph, and bruising is obvious around his cheekbones.

'He's done a few minor recruitment jobs, and nabbed a few scrappits of intel. But nothing major, which is why we weren't that concerned. However,' her eyebrows raise. 'Yan Mizirov, was Lucas' main asset in Russia, kept him on top of the situation. He was caught just after Lucas.'

Ros crosses her legs. 'You think he went in because Lucas gave him away?'

Harry nods. 'It's possible. Lucas was taken by surprise. Terrified, shaken, with all his belongings up for inspection. There could have been a trail to Mizirov.'

Jo's wide blue eyes catch Harry's gaze. 'So Yan could be using Paul, in order to get to Lucas. He saw the connection with Mi5, and is pulling all the strings he can so that he can carry out his revenge? But why use Rhian?'

'Easy bait, Lucas gets drawn in and emotionally attached. It makes the betrayal all the more painful. Meanwhile, Rhian is having to play along for fear of losing Paul.' Ros' eyebrows raise. 'If that is what he's up to, you've got to be impressed. He's using the FSB to wage a personal vendetta against Lucas, while hiding under the pretense of re-capturing a key Mi5 operative. Dangerous ground. Either he's a genius, or he's bloody stupid.'

Jo shakes her head. 'Surely we're missing something here?'

'With this case there's too many loose ends to worry about, Jo. We'll take it a step at a time.' Harry turns to Malcolm. 'Malcolm, I'm need you to trace Mizirov, if he's connected to Lucas, he might have a connection to Rhian and Lucas' disappearance. Ben, keep on the Brotherhood, and Jo too, anything you can find on Sasha Osmanovic, David Allingham or Peitr Saitov. Oh and if Yan Mizirov's connected in anyway I want to know.'

As the team leave, Harry draws Ros to one side. 'We need Lucas back on the Grid.'

Ros raises one eyebrow, and Harry bristles. 'I thought you were all for him taking a couple of weeks rest?'

'I need back on the Grid to keep an eye on him,' explains Harry angrily. 'He's going to get himself killed if I leave him on his own too long.'

* * *

Peitr is smiling widely when Lucas sees him next. He had left a tearstained Rhian in her cell late yesterday evening, and managed to scrabble together a few hours of sleep. A dream woke him at dawn, gasping and choking, and he had staggered over to the tiny window to cool his face with the crisp morning air.

Peitr had pushed in at around eight, announcing that the dead man had worked his magic, and slapped Lucas on the back.

Lucas smiles weakly, and says he's glad.

'So we go today?'

'We collect it today. Tomorrow, revenge.'

The two men laugh.

'When do we leave?'

Peitr sucks his teeth. 'Half an hour.'

Once he's left, Lucas leaves his room quickly. He knows he needs to get in contact with the Grid, and slips into a few of the other rooms, looking for a mobile phone.

In the end he's left to brushing past a man in the corridor, and apologising hurriedly in Russian, before pressing on, the phone clenched in his hand.

He finds a quiet room, and hurriedly dials the number. It's when he's waiting for Ros to pick up, he realises something with a jolt.

The number scribbled on the paper on Rhian's hall table, in her handwriting. The same handwriting as on Osmanovic's table. The number which belonged to a phone on the grid. The number to Ros' phone. How could Rhian have that? How-

'Hello?'

Lucas is jolted from his reverie, by Ros' sharp greeting down the line.

'Ros, it's Lucas. Listen, tell Harry the Low Land, less than half an hour. I'm going to need CO19 and several of the team, as backup.'

'Lucas-'

But he's already shut the phone.

He throws it under the filing cabinet, and slips into the corridor, praying Ros passes on the message. Knowing if she doesn't Rhian has no longer than an hour to live.

* * *

**Oh dear! A bit of mess they've got themselves into. Hopefully, Lucas will manage to save the day. But we'll have to see! Sorry if it's getting a bit complex, but there's more to all of it than meets the eye.**

**As ever, drop a review! Thank you to all my regulars, and my lurkers :)**

* * *

**BeanieSgirl - Thank you! More to come, hope you enjoyed it.**

**Novindalf - Sorry about the suspense, I enjoy cranking it up. Glad you're enjoying it still!**

**Duk92 - Yes another cliffhanger! Mwahah. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and there's moreyet to come.**

**Caty - Lucas is so desperate to make a connection with someone, without trying to suspect them of anything, that's why he was so unwilling to believe Rhian is anything except what she says. But he's fighting a losing battle! All will be revealed about Rhian, but I agree, everybody is suspect. Glad you're enjoying it, and sorry about forgetting the translation! Lucas said - Hello, my old friend. More soon!**

**DEFiiANCE - Hey! Glad you're enjoying it, and it always makes me happy when I write a character that people like, especially when they're not so keen on OC's. More coming soon, and I hope you enjoyed this one.**

**Christini - Thanks for the review, and I finally found the spelling mistakes :P Hope you liked this chapter; there's quite a bit more to come!**

**Xanthemj - Hope you enjoyed this! Thank's for all your support, and I know what you mean! It's tricky fitting stuff in!**

**BritishNinjaChick - oh i do dare! :P But not this time. Hope you enjoyed! I know what you mean about liking Peitr, although with me it's more mutual respect for my creation :P**

**Zelofheda-B - Thank you for your review! And don't worry, I understand, things can get pretty hectic, especially around new year. You were right about Peitr shooting to miss, and all about poor Rhian's situation is slowly being revealed. She's in a bit of a mess, poor thing. Luckily Lucas is starting to take control of the situation.**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Thank you! and don't murder me :P Hope you enjoyed!**

**Afia - tenterhooks are my speciality, at least, I'm trying to perfect them. I'm hoping you enjoyed this chapter, and as I've said, there's more to come!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

Trapped.

Rhian knows Lucas is somewhere behind her, but she doesn't dare turn round. Her breath is sharp in her throat, and she feels her chest constricting painfully as they draw closer to the dark forms of the warehouses. What now? What happened when Peitr realises the weapon isn't here at all?

_Trust me. _Lucas' unseen presence seems to say.

Rhian has no choice but to.

Peitr grips her arm painfully, tugging her to a halt. 'Where?' He asks sharply.

Rhian swallows and looks at him. 'I don't know, he just said here.'

Peitr looks like he's about to hit her, and Rhian juts her chin out defiantly. But Peitr turns angrily away and gestures to his men.

'Check all the warehouses, leave nothing uncovered.'

They stream off, a group of dark shadows, slipping quietly into each building, until it's just Lucas, Peitr and Rhian left.

Rhian shivers slightly, as a breeze whips the thin branches of the birches up into the air. It's quiet, and the warehouses are set back from the road, only the occasional flutter of wings from a bird disturbs the urban silence.

Rhian jumps, as a car door slams somewhere. But there's houses to the left, and the children scramble out of the back seats and disappear through the front door.

She breathes out a shaky breath, not meeting Peitr's or Lucas' gaze.

There's roar of engines as six, dark, four by fours screech into the open area in front of the warehouses, Rhian taking an involuntary steps backward in her shock. There's shouting and the thud of boots on tarmac, the click of automatic rifles and the crackle of radios.

Rhian turns.

Lucas is looking relieved, and Peitr…

His arms clamp round her, pinning her hands to her sides and dragging her, stumbling, a few paces backwards.

Lucas whips round, ice blue eyes flaring.

'Search the warehouses,' he hears Ros order from behind him.

Peitr clenches Rhian tighter. 'No!'

'Do as he says,' shouts Lucas loudly, not looking over his shoulder, eyes fixed on Rhian.

The footsteps stop.

'Lucas-' Harry's voice. But Peitr's hand has flickered for his gun.

'Don't come any closer!'

Lucas swallows.

Peitr's eyes are wild, and Lucas can't read his expression. Fear, anger, guilt, all tangled into a palpable thing.

'It was you?' Rhian's stopped struggling, and Peitr makes Lucas meet his gaze.

'Yes. It was me. I've done this.'

'Traitor!'

'No,' begins Lucas calmly. 'This was always going to happen Peitr, I'd had it planned from the start.'

Peitr's face is suddenly skeletal, his cheekbones jutting and his mouth a thin slash across his face, hands like pale spiders on Rhian's arms.

'I trusted you,' he spits, and Lucas sees his hand clench on his gun.

'I know-' Lucas swallows. 'I'm sorry Peitr…' He steps forwards a pace, carefully.

He can sense Ros and Harry somewhere behind him, and the rows of silent armed men.

'Stay back!'

Lucas freezes again.

'Peitr, give her to me-' he holds out his arms for Rhian, but Peitr takes another step back.

A fire erupts in Lucas' stomach, painful, consuming. Red stains his vision. 'Let her go!' he shouts, furious and helpless.

'Lucas!' Ros warns.

Lucas goes rigid as the the nozzle of the gun is jammed hard against Rhian's temple, her head held high in defiance. Some of the fire in the pit of Lucas' stomach burns out and leaves a charred, black, wrenching hole. Not Rhian, he thinks.

Her gaze seeks his, and they share a glance; a brief, fleeting look.

_Don't dare die on me, Rhian. _His eyes scream, lending voice to his terror. _Don't dare go._

Lucas stays poised, but perfectly still. Any movement. Any movement whatsoever, could jeopardize Rhian's life.

And then everything starts happening too fast.

Peitr's men appear out of the warehouses, shouting and swearing, dark jackets spilling over the ground towards the rows of C019. There's gunshots and the rattle of rifle fire, screams and shouted orders.

But Lucas doesn't have time to notice.

He whips round and grabs Ros' arm. 'Give me your gun!'

She does so, and he snatches it off her, running forwards, and pointing the gun at Peitr.

'Let her go Peitr!'

Peitr sneers. 'What do you think I am? Stupid?'

'Stupid enough to let me in.'

Rhian freezes. What's he doing? He's going to get himself killed!

But Peitr's getting agitated. The gun hand holding the revolver against Rhian's head is shaking, and Rhian forces herself to stay limp in his grasp.

'Peitr-'

'Shut up!' he shouts, loud enough to deafen Rhian, the gun whipping round to point at Lucas.

Lucas swallows, assessing the situation, Ros' gun held steady in front of him.

'She doesn't know Peitr…' he begins, quietly.

Peitr's head arches back. 'Oh I think we've had enough of this, don't you.'

'No,' persists Lucas. 'I mean it, she doesn't know, she has no idea where the weapon is. She's Mi5, every part of this was a set up.'

Peitr yells, and as the gun turns back to Rhian, Lucas realises there's only one thing he can do.

Gritting his teeth, and keeping his gaze fixed on the hair above Peitr's ear, he fires.

Rhian and Peitr go down as one.

* * *

Rhian's hit the floor before she realises what's happened, and all the breath's knocked out of her. Peitr's arms are still locked about her, and she feels a sob rise in her throat as Lucas skids down and unclenches the dead man's hands.

The side of her face is sticky with blood. His blood. She grabs the front of Lucas' shirt and buries her face in his chest, shuddering uncontrollably.

Lucas is shaking too.

He can't look at the body behind Rhian, and concentrates instead on the patch of tarmac to his right. Blood stains the ground. He swallows his sickness and rocks Rhian gently.

'Shh-' he soothes. 'I've got you.'

'Lucas?' Harry's voice cuts above the fuzz, and Lucas carefully untangles his shirt from Rhian's fingers, and lifts her up with him.

Harry glances at Rhian, and then returns his gaze to Lucas.

'Get yourself and Rhian cleaned up, I want you back on the Grid tomorrow morning, with a full explanation.'

Lucas looks down, brows knitted.

A few minutes later, once the last of Peitr's men have been man handled out of their weapons, Ros opens her mouth to speak to Lucas as he passes, a hand firm on Rhian's shoulder. But someone coughs behind her and Harry shakes his head.

'Not now Ros, let him go. He needs to sort himself out, we'll tell him tomorrow.'

Ros nods curtly, and turns to watch Lucas leave with Rhian.

* * *

Rhian's scrubbed the side of her face so hard it's red raw, but she still can't shift the feeling of the blood spattering the side of her mouth, sliding over her lips and clinging to her hair. She scrubs at her scalp and then rinses her hair out again, glancing up into the mirror over the sink.

She looks sick; washed out and dark circles crowding her eyes. Her hands shake as she leans against the basin.

It's Lucas' bathroom, and towel is slung over the edge of the bath for her.

She slumps down on the floor, and wraps it round her.

She knows something's wrong with her. A part of her thinks she might have PTSD, but she shoves the thought away angrily. She's probably just in shock. She's not even sure if you can get PTSD that soon. She shoves the thought away again, feeling sick.

There's a quiet knock on the door.

'Rhian?'

She forces herself up, and sits on the edge of the bath, worried she might fall asleep if she stays on the floor. 'Yes?'

'Just checking you were ok,' Lucas' voice is soothing.

'I'm fine.'

Part of her hopes he'll stay outside the door, but she hears him move away.

Rhian dresses quickly. Lucas had salvaged some clothes from her flat for her, and she shrugs on the tracksuit bottoms, and the tank top, tugging the hoodie over her head and opening the bathroom door quietly.

'What do I do with the towel?' Her voice crackles, and she winces at how weak it sounds.

Lucas' head appears round the corner of the corridor, and he gives her a smile. 'Just in the bathrooms fine.'

He's sitting on the sofa, a tumbler of something in his hand when Rhian pads through. She slips down beside him and tugs her knees up to her chest, pulling her sleeves over her hands.

He looks at her, opens his mouth to ask the stupid question, and then shuts it, knowing the answer. Knowing she's not really Ok.

'Can I?' Rhian indicates the tumbler.

Lucas passes it over silently, and watches as she takes a long draw.

It's Vodka, and she forces herself to swallow it down.

Lucas' eyes are slightly bloodshot, Rhian notices, as he leans across to take the glass back from her. She finds her hand tangles with his as she passes over the tumbler, and his face is suddenly very close to hers.

'Lucas-' she whispers, afraid of breaking the moment.

He sets the glass aside, and closes his hand over hers. 'Yes?' His eyebrows dip.

'I-' Her voice loses it's strength, and she leans forwards, tipping her lips to his.

She feels him breath shakily out into her, and his hands slide around her waist, his forehead resting against hers.

'I'm sorry,' he says, after their lips have brushed again.

She strokes his cheek. 'For what?'

'For getting you into this.'

Guilt gnaws Rhian's stomach. She kisses him again, urgently.

'What if I want, this?'

* * *

Rhian wakes with a jolt, his hands and knees are pushing her away as he struggles. She sits up and slides backwards, her heart pounding. Was he dreaming? Was it some sort of fit? She puts her hands on his shoulders and shakes him, trying to avoid his thrashing.

'Lucas!' She calls, her voice still crackly from sleep. Her mouth has gone dry, and she tries to hold his arms down to stop him from hurting himself, all the time praying he'll wake himself up. 'Lucas, wake up!'

He's mumbling, the odd word slipping out; some in English, others in Russian and she can see his eyes flickering under his lids. She lets go of one of his wrists and pushes his hair back from his forehead, trying to calm him.

'Lucas, please. Please wake up!'

And he does, shuddering upright and unbalancing Rhian, his eyes wide and dark. He doesn't see her for a moment, even though he's staring right at her. She swallows and sits back onto the duvet with a thump, breath sharp in her throat.

'Are you ok?'

He brings his hand up to cover his face, eyes shielded and then he turns away slightly.

'I'll be alright… just give me a minute.' His voice is hoarse, and Rhian bites her lip anxiously as he throws the covers back and sits on the edge of the bed, head dropping into his hands.

She waits for moment, before sliding across and putting a hand tentatively on his bare shoulder, the tattoos on his back standing out like ebony against his pale skin.

She traces them, frowning.

'Talk to me…' she whispers.

He glances over his shoulder at her.

'They're prison tattoos Ree. Russian prison tattoos,' he leans his elbows on his knees. 'Eight years ago, I was caught in Russia, by the FSB. I was senior Mi5 officer; a big prize. They tortured me, took everything away from me. I lost eight years of my life. They drowned me, Ree. That's why I dream, the nightmares are about my torture. I relieve it, every night. It's the price for my freedom. But I stayed loyal, to my country, to Mi5.' He glances at her, long eyelashes fluttering down to shield his eyes.

She kisses his bare shoulder, and then leans across to brush her lips to his ear.

'Let me help you.'

'Can you save me from dreams?'

Rhian meets his gaze squarely. 'If they want you, then they're going to have to fight me.'

* * *

**I'm hoping this chapter worked, as I was a little nervous about Rhian's reaction to the whole terrifying scenario. I reckoned she'd be in a certain amount of shock after the man holding her got his head shot... And I didn't want the scene between Lucas and Rhian to move their relationship too drastically, but then I'd worked out it would, and that this would be a sort of turning point. And I hold no claims to the final line. It's lyrics by Laura Marling, and the song is called Night Terror. It just seemed to fit so perfectly that I couldn't phrase it any other way. Anyway! I hope you enjoyed, and as ever, please drop a review!**

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**Xanthemj - Hope you enjoyed this one, and I'm praying it's still all making sense!**

**Lovesavethempty - Phewf! Safe, for now. But what happens when Ros tells Lucas about Rhian?**

**Christini - Thank you so much! Your review was a wonderful compliment. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and there's plenty more tension to come.**

**Duk92 - I totally understand about the jumping to conclusions, but hopefully, everything will work out - But only I know that :P Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Zelofheda - So glad you liked the twist with the FSB and Yan! Hope the scene with Lucas and Rhian didn't move too quickly toward the end, only I figured they'd be pretty mentally exhausted by then. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**BeanieSgirl - Thank you! Hmm..I get the feeling Lucas is going to be a little out of his depth. However, Lucas is still Lucas, the one we know and love. Hoping you enjoyed this chappie!**

**BritishNinjaChick - My job is to send you insane, dear. So glad you're enjoying it!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10.

Blissful Ignorance.

When Lucas wakes, for a moment he is married again. Waking up on a lazy Sunday morning with Elizabeta next to him, his arms round her shoulders, her hands twined with his. But her smell is different, not the familiar soap and lavender. He turns and presses his face in her tangle of curls, feeling a sob welling in his throat. He has needed this too long. Craved the feel of a woman's arms, the scent of her, the warmth of her breath and the pressure of her fingers on his hips.

Lucas closes his eyes again, and holds her closer.

He knows in a few hours he'll have to go. Harry said he'd be expecting him, and after all the uproar he's already caused, Lucas knows he can't afford to try Harry's patience anymore. But just a few more minutes…

Half an hour later he's slipping out the front door, straightening his jacket and bracing himself against the cold. It takes him another fifteen minutes to reach Thames House, and Lucas is swallowing down his nerves as he enters through the pods.

Jo, Malcolm, Connie and Ben all glance up as he stops by his desk, but only Jo approaches.

'You ok?' she asks softly, head on one side.

Lucas looks at her, partly grateful, partly surprised.

'I will be,' he answers eventually.

'Lucas!' Harry's brusque voice sounds from the door of his office, and Lucas raises his eyebrows at Jo.

'Time to face the music.'

Jo touches his arm lightly as he passes, a gesture of support.

Lucas glances warily at both Harry and Ros as he enters, pulling the door shut behind him. They both look grim, and he clenches his jaw, knowing this isn't going to be enjoyable.

'Harry-' he begins.

But Harry cuts him off. 'Lucas sit down.'

'I'd rather stand,' he says, folding his arms over his chest.

'Sit,' Harry's voice is tight.

Lucas slides unwilling into the chair.

Harry's computer has been turned round to face Lucas and Ros on the other side of the desk, and Lucas frowns as Harry opens up a file on the screen.

'Do you know who this man is?'

Lucas looks at the photograph of the man. He's young and blonde, a smile tugging his mouth and a discerning gaze. The face rings no bells.

'No.'

'You're sure? You've not seen him anywhere before?'

Lucas doesn't have look at the photograph again. 'I'm sure.'

Harry rubs his jaw distractedly. 'His name's Paul Fletcher. He's been missing for a month a half. He's a senior case officer in Section K.'

'Harry, what's this got to do with-' Lucas begins.

But Harry ploughs on, leaving Lucas to clench his hands in his lap in frustration.

'His latest case involved doing some quiet research, looking into unknown FSB assets recently assigned to the UK.'

The screen flickers again.

'You know this man.'

Lucas stares.

'Shit.'

Ros' mouth twists wryly. 'Shit indeed. Yan Mizirov, no?'

Lucas nods, eyes dark.

'I thought he was in Russia…'

'So did we,' says Harry curtly. 'In fact, we thought he was dead. Thanks to you.'

Lucas' eyebrows raise as he looks up at Harry. 'Me?'

'Yes, when you were caught, the Russian's the details of your mole in the FSB. They dragged him from his home, and he was put in Leshenko with you. I'm quite surprised you didn't run into each other.'

Lucas' mouth twists. 'I was… a special inmate.'

'He was set free, about a year ago. Perhaps he believed that the Russian's had taken pity on him. Whatever it was, they hadn't. They'd had his wife and children killed. He had little choice but to agree to work for them.'

'And now?' Lucas asks.

'And now he's back in the UK,' Harry indicates Paul Fletcher, just visible behind the prison photograph of Mizirov. 'Paul was investigating him, now he's disappeared.'

Lucas leans back in his chair, a little more at ease now he's realised he's not about to be interrogated. 'What's this Paul got to do with me?'

Ros shifts in her chair, and Harry raises an eyebrow, surprised at her discomfort.

'Paul is Rhian's partner, Lucas.'

There's a heavy silence.

Lucas' eyes flicker to the picture, up to Harry and back again.

'You're sure?'

'Positive.'

Lucas stands suddenly, hands balling into fists, and paces over to the glass panel separating Harry's office off from the grid.

Ros and Harry watch him carefully.

'Why didn't she tell me?' He asks, and his voice is a little louder than normal.

'We think she's being used by Yan to get to you. He's got Paul and he's manipulating her,' says Ros, voice as crisp as ever.

Lucas passes a hand over his eyes.

'I killed him,' he says suddenly. 'I killed him because of her, I killed him.'

Harry glances worriedly at Ros. 'Lucas, maybe you should sit down.'

'Don't tell me to sit down,' he snaps, jaw tight.

'Who did you kill, Lucas?' Ros probes carefully.

'Peitr,' he says, fingers clenching.

'Even if you had known this, Lucas, about Rhian. Would you have let Peitr kill her?' Harry forces Lucas to look him in the eye.

He shakes his head.

'Good, now sit down.'

Lucas slumps into the chair again, hands shaking imperceptibly.

'So what do we know?' he asks after a second, his voice only betraying him slightly.

'That Paul's missing, that Rhian is being used, and that Yan is in the country, using the FSB to wage a personal vendetta against you.'

Lucas manages a weak smile.

'Not much then.'

* * *

When Lucas comes back, Rhian knows.

She only has to glance up from her seat at his kitchen table to know. Know that he knows.

She stands hurriedly. 'Lucas…'

His jaw clenches, and he turns away.

'I can't even look at you.'

She bites her lip, hard. 'I'm sorry.'

He turns, anger driving him. 'Are you?' he asks forcefully. 'Are you really?'

'Yes!' she cries. 'I never wanted to lie to you!'

Lucas' mouth twists painfully. 'Then why did you?'

'Because he'd have known,' Rhian stares at Lucas, willing him to understand. 'I couldn't take the risk.'

'Then why get involved with Paul, if you couldn't _take the risk_?' Lucas spits viscously.

'Because I care about him!' her voice wobbles. 'I love him…'

But Lucas' hands ball. 'Do you really? Because I can't tell anymore what's a lie and what's not, Rhian.'

She whips her hand up to slap him, but he's faster and grabs her wrist, pushing her back.

Her eyes swim. 'Let go of me,' she says quietly.

His grip tightens, and a single tear rolls down her cheek.

'Please,' she whispers.

Lucas releases his grip, sick to his stomach.

Rhian stumbles back a few paces, and then covers her face with her hands, shaking silently.

Lucas drops his head and leans back against the counter, trying to steady himself.

'Talk to me,' he says, suddenly.

Rhian looks up, eyes bloodshot.

'Tell me everything.'

She swallows, hands twisting.

'I met Paul three years ago,' she starts slowly. 'He told me what he was, and I suppose I didn't care. But I never really realised until Yan contacted me, just how vicious this job can be,' she laughs. 'Naïve, I know. But I was… Yan sent me pictures of you, told me that I had to get close to you, to get to know you. That if I did it would make it easier for Paul. So I trailed you. He'd told me where you'd be. Considering you're a spook, you were easy to follow.' She manages a half smile.

'Yan told me that you couldn't meet Osmanovic. I don't know how he knew, but he just did. I was meant to stop you from talking to him. So that morning, I went ahead, and told him I was an agent working for Mi5. It was the only way I could get him to move. He shot off once I told him that the Russian's were on his tail. I just had to wait until you came, and the rest was easy.' Rhian looks down, frowning. 'But I felt guilty afterwards. I knew you'd be in trouble… So when you dropped me off, I flicked through your contacts when you went into the kitchen. I knew what I was looking for. Yan knew about Ros, and so it was simple finding the number. I fed it to Osmanovic and prayed he'd contact you, prayed Yan wouldn't find out.

'It was only when I came so close to losing you in that hall with Peitr, that's when I realised,' she looks up at him, pale faced. 'That's when I realised I loved you. But falling in love wasn't meant to be part of this… Now I don't know what to think.'

Another tear trailed down her cheek, and Lucas felt his chest ache painfully. How could he desert her…?

'Rhian…' he starts quietly.

But she shakes her head firmly. 'No, I'll leave-' She wipes her eyes, sniffing.

She turns towards the door, but Lucas steps forwards and grabs her arm, gentler this time.

'Rhian… Ree,' he says softly. 'Please stay.'

He takes her face in his hands, and looks her in the eyes, leaning his forehead against hers.

'Please…'

Rhian sniffs again. 'Have you forgiven me… Can you?'

'I think forgave you before I even realised that I had to,' Lucas closes his eyes.

'Thank you,' she whispers, and kisses him.

* * *

When Lucas re-enters the grid later that day, Ros casts him a questioning look.

'Are you alright?'

Lucas nods brusquely. 'We've sorted things out.'

'Right. Good.'

'Ros!' Malcolm hurries over. 'I've just intercepted message, from an unknown location, I'm pretty sure it's from Mizirov.'

Ros' eyebrows arch.

They crowd round Malcolm's desk, Lucas leaning over the back of the chair, something clawing at his gut painfully.

'It's an address in London,' Malcolm says, pulling up the file.

Lucas scans the message quickly. 'I know it.'

Ros glances at him. 'We'd better check this out.'

Harry looks at her. 'Do want a support team?'

But she shakes her head. 'No, Lucas and I will be fine.'

* * *

Ros slams the drivers door shut, and follows Lucas up the path, her hands unconsciously loading her gun.

Lucas glances at her quickly. She nods, and he kicks the door to the open with his foot, swinging the gun out in front of him.

'Ok, you carry on up to the top two floors, I'll scan the first two,' Ros says quickly, and pushes on ahead of Lucas, up into the shadows of the building.

Lucas takes the steps two at a time, ears straining all the time for any sounds; a footfall, the clink of a cartridge, the slam of a door.

His breath is catching hard in his throat by the time he reaches the third floor, and he enters the first room quickly, slamming the door open and jamming the gun in front of him.

There's nothing for two rooms, just boarded up windows and dust. But Lucas' hackles rise as he reaches the door of the third room.

Slowly, he edges closer. Then with a burst of adrenaline, kicks the door open and snaps his head round the doorframe.

The smell hits him first.

Lucas enters quietly, steps light across the floor.

There's a body lying in the far corner. The light filtering through the boards catches the curve of the man's back, the dark stain around him.

It's Paul. His blonde hair still just visible.

Lucas stumbles backwards, forcing down a wave of nausea. He must have been dead for at least a week, and Lucas tries not to breath. Eyes watering slightly, he scans the room. A pale flash of paper catches his eye.

It's a note.

He tugs it off the wall.

**She's Next.**

He shuts his eyes; the meaning all too clear.

'Ros!'

He calls, voice surprisingly steady.

'Ros up here!'

She appears at his elbow, nose wrinkling slightly.

She glances at the note, and then at the corpse.

'Is it him?' she asks impassively.

Lucas forces himself to step closer.

He crouches down beside the man, and rolls him over, no longer breathing.

The face from the profile picture is gaunt, white with death, and his eyes have sunk slightly, but it's unmistakably Paul.

Lucas has to choke back his sickness at the thought of Rhian seeing the post-mortem pictures, at the thought of this corpse once being so full of life, and love. Rhian's…

He dry wretches.

Ros looks away as Lucas composes himself, and stands, his face green in the darkness. 'It's him.'

* * *

**Oh dear! Just when you thought it was all over. I was pretty sure that Lucas was going to forgive her - I could see him empathising with her situation, after what Elizabeta had agreed to do for him when he was in prison. However, he's a little shaken after killing Peitr: the one person who supported him through his years in prison...**

**And for those of you wondering, Rhian's being totally honest. She's a bit mixed up in her feelings for Paul and Lucas, poor girl. The ending was meant to be gritty. Lucas' disgust at what Yan has done, and his fear for Rhian. He's going to be a bit worked up that's for sure.**

**I can't apologise more for the appalling delay, and I promise the next update will be much more prompt. As ever, please leave a review and you'll have to wait to see what I have planned for my poor characters. *she grins happily***

* * *

**Novindalf - Thank you! But as I said, I can't claim credit for the line: Night Terror by Laura Marling. Great song, I would recommend it!**

**Xanthemj - Glad you liked it! And even if it had sounded like a report, I don't mind: any comments are great.**

**LoveSavetheEmpty - Safe Now you think? Just you wait :P Hope you liked it**

**EmmaLeigh92 - Thank you so much - your encouragement works wonders. I hope this chapter didn't seem too rusty :P It certainly took me long enough to crank it out!**

**BeanieSgirl -I'm glad you picked up on the role reversal - it was kinda intentional. Thanks for your ongoing support! :)**

**Duk92 - Thankee! Your support is great, and flattery does work wonders :P However! I hope you enjoyed this, and sorry for the delay! And don't worry - I overuse words too! Especially in this reply section :)**

**Christini - Thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed this one :)**

**BritishNinjaChick - Well... there's still time for some deaths... :P and it's my job to scare you! Hope you liked :)**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11.

Safe.

It's three o'clock in the morning, and he still hasn't told her yet.

Rain spatters against the window, and Lucas thinks he can hear the rumble of distant thunder. It's been pouring for the past half hour, and Lucas has counted every second of it. He turns slightly in the bed, and props an arm behind his head, the fingers of his free hand tracing over her shoulder.

Rhian stirs, and he takes his hand away, anxiety clawing at his belly.

He can't wake her up now, that's for sure. But will he have the nerve to tell her in the morning?

Lucas isn't sure.

Sighing, he passes a free hand across his brow and stares up at the ceiling, imagining the dark shadows creeping closer, sliding down the walls and swallowing him as he sleeps. But Rhian turns over in her sleep and slides an arm across his bare waist, and Lucas smiles softly, grateful for the silent reminder that he's still got something, someone, to live for.

* * *

Lucas raps his fingers on the counter impatiently as the coffee machine whirrs in front of him. His back twinges painfully, the ghost of a sleepless night slung across his bones, making his head heavy and his eyes smart with tiredness.

As the mug fills with steaming coffee, Lucas scuffs a hand through his hair and stretches his neck back, groaning.

'Bad night?' Rhian stumbles through, dragging a jumper over her head. 'Not my fault I hope.' She manages a smile.

Lucas grins through his fingers as he rakes a hand across his face. 'No… just restless. I couldn't seem to settle.'

He takes a gulp of coffee and slumps onto the stool, bare feet just brushing the tiles. Rhian stops behind him and drapes her arms round his shoulders, breathing out deeply. 'There something you're not telling me Luc.' It is tentative, but a statement nonetheless, and Lucas stiffens slightly as she rests her forehead against his shoulder. 'You've been a wee bit… stressed recently.'

Lucas takes her hand in his and traces the lines of her palms intently. 'I have a stressful job,' he murmurs, not really seeing her hands. Instead the pale skin is stained with the words 'she's next', and Lucas feels an involuntary shudder run through him.

Trying to ignore the creeping feeling up his spine, he drains his mug and stands, stopping only to press a kiss to her forehead before padding through to the bathroom. Rhian watches him leave, then collapses onto the stool, head in hands.

There's so much he won't tell her, she realises. He's so used to keeping everything caught up inside him, that he might never open up. Rhian tugs at her eyebrows and stares blankly down at the work-surface beneath her. What if he never talked to her? Never trusted her fully… Could she live with that?

But then, Rhian thinks bitterly, she couldn't really blame him if he did. After all she's done she's given him enough reason not to. Lying to him. Keeping him in the dark. Not telling him about Paul…

Paul.

There was another minefield. What will happen when Paul's found again. What will she say to him? She can't have them both. So selfish, she tells herself angrily. How could you be so selfish?

Clenching her thumb tightly in her hand she blinks back the prickle of tears, and bites down on her bottom lip. She doesn't have long. She's going to have to choose for fear of loosing both of them all over again.

* * *

When Lucas emerges again, hair still damp and dressed in a dark shirt and jeans, Rhian can produce a convincing smile for him as he crosses the hall for his shoes.

'Will you be alright on your own for a couple of hours? I have to talk to Harry and see if he needs me to do anything,' Lucas is apologetic.

'It's fine, you've got to work. I've already realised it's not a good idea to keep you cooped up anywhere for too long,' Rhian pales as soon as the words leave her mouth.

Lucas is tense for a thin second, and Rhian opens her mouth to apologise.

Lucas cuts across her, 'It's ok, you didn't mean anything by it.'

Rhian smiles gratefully, and cradles the fresh mug of coffee in her hands, an awkward silence building.

'Phone me if you need anything.'

Rhian nods.

'If you see anything.'

Another nod.

'Or if you're just…'

'Scared,' she murmurs.

Lucas clears his throat awkwardly. He should tell her now, he realises.

But he can't. He can't.

He turns quickly at the and looks back at her. 'Rhian!'

She looks up, coffee mug still in hand. 'Yep?'

'Don't go out,' he says firmly.

'What-'

But he's already closed the door behind him.

Stepping out onto the street, Lucas glances left and right, his sharp face pinched with tiredness and his eyes shrewd. There's a dark lexus parked at the other end of the street, and as Lucas stalks past he nods at the two men in the front.

The driver tips his head imperceptibly, but the passenger keeps his eyes fixed on Lucas' flat, a thin wire visible above his collar and a dark earpiece under his hairline. There's a thin scar above his right eye and the bridge of his nose is flat from a heavy blow. The driver's jacket has a white dust spattering it's collar. Lucas notices all this in the seconds it takes for him to walk past the car, hands jammed deep into his pockets, and by the time he's rounded the corner of the street, every detail has been memorised.

Thank god for Harry's efficiency, he thinks. At least he doesn't have to worry so much about Rhian's safety. He can only pray she'll stay inside.

* * *

The atmosphere on the grid is tense at best. Malcolm sits hunched over his computer, fingers tapping furiously at the keys, his brow scarred with frown lines. Ros is prowling. Pacing from one end of the room to the other and snapping at anyone who comes near her. Lucas skirts past her carefully.

Harry enters about five minutes later, loosening his tie and looking haggard. 'Ok team, update please,' he says curtly, striding into the centre of the loose ring of desks.

Lucas is the first to move, slipping his hand into his pocket and placing the scrap of paper he had found by Paul on the table.

'This is my priority,' he says bluntly, and leans back against his desk.

Harry's face is like the darkening sky before the rain. 'This was with Paul?'

Ros nods.

'A minute please.' And Harry disappears into his office.

The team shift uncomfortably, casting each other concerned glances.

Harry reappears, swiftly, and matches Lucas with a slip of his own.

The two notes sit side by side.

**Payback She's Next**

Jo is the first to speak. 'They're the same handwriting,' she says musingly, then blushes at being the first to state the obvious.

Lucas reaches out with pale fingers and draws the second note towards him.

'How did you get this?'

'It was given to me,' Harry watches his senior officer carefully. 'I'm starting to think it was meant for you.'

'Yan?'

Harry is guarded. 'We have no proof.'

'No, but…'

A shrill bleep from Ben's computer interrupts them, and Ben turns quickly.

When he turns back, his mouth is a straight thin line. 'Allingham's dead, suspected suicide. I've just been sent the police report.'

'This is just bloody fantastic,' Ros is rapier sharp.

But Jo shakes her head. 'No, I think this is good. With Allingham out the way, we can see if anyone else knows where the bomb is. It's the perfect honey trap. They'll be playing all their aces at once, trying desperately to reach it before we do. If they're desperate, they'll make mistakes. That's how we can trap them.'

Lucas wrinkles his forehead, and rubs his face wearily. 'My priority is still Yan,' he persists. 'With him out there, this unit's still under threat. Rhian is still under threat.'

Ros steps in swiftly. 'Lucas, if you want to make Mizirov your personal assignment, that's fine by me. But I don't want to hear another peep about him unless it's relevant to this case. Understood?' her smile is strained and thin lipped.

Lucas swallows his anger and nods.

'Connie,' she turns. 'I'll need the forensics report on Allingham. Might give us some finger prints, something to work with. Malcolm, I'll need you looking into all of Allingham's records again. Anything recent that might be even slightly relevant. We can't afford to miss anything.'

Jo chews her lip. 'I can scan over the interviews again from the Brotherhood. We could have overlooked something.'

'Good,' says Harry, managing a hard smile. 'But I need Ros, and you, Lucas to come with me in half an hour to meet with Radimov. We have a few ruffled feathers to smooth over.' He takes a pace toward his office, before a last minute thought stops him. 'Oh, and Lucas, I can offer you some cover for Rhian. If you think Yan is dangerous enough.'

Lucas' face drains.

'You-' he passes a hand across his face. 'You haven't set it up already?'

Harry can see his agent's hands shaking.

'Harry!' Lucas shouts brokenly.

'No.' If Harry is startled by the outburst, he hides it well. 'No Lucas, not yet.'

Lucas swears indistinctly under his breath and storms from the grid like a dark rain cloud, his phone snapping open in his hand.

Rhian's number on speed dial, he brings it impatiently up to his ear, long fingers gripping the mobile tightly.

Two tones, then-

'Hello?'

Lucas lets out the breath he's been holding since the realisation that the men outside her flat were not Mi5, and slumps back against the corridor wall.

'Hello Lucas?' Her voice is cautious, and he can almost see her chewing her bottom lip worriedly as she waits, the way her nose wrinkles when she's thinking.

'Rhian,' he says eventually, tearing a hand through his hair. 'Thank God. Are you ok?'

'Yes…' she's concerned, her voice softening slightly. 'Why? What's happened?'

Lucas paces. 'Nothing. It's just…' he stops, a thought nagging at the back of his mind. 'Rhian? Go into my bedroom.'

'Lucas…'

'Just do it, quickly.'

He can hear her moving, and holds in a breath.

'I'm there.'

'Go over the window, carefully, and look out on the street, see if there's anyone there. Try not to be seen.'

'Christ Lucas, I feel like I'm in some god-awful 1960's cop-show,' she teases, but Lucas just grits his teeth.

'Rhian,' he says warningly.

'Ok! Ok, I'm looking.'

He hears her breathing softly, then her footsteps as she retreats to the bed. 'No-one there. Now tell me Luc, what's this all about?'

Lucas sucks his teeth, wondering how much he can tell her.

'It's just not safe for you at the moment,' he rubs the crease between his eyes. 'Harry's sending someone over to look after you, don't worry. You'll be fine, I'll be back around six.'

He pauses, faltering between closing his phone and saying more.

'Lucas, be careful.'

He nods subconsciously, then clears his throat. 'Will do.'

* * *

Sergei Radimov is huge. Built like a bear, with thick dark hair and a pair of mistrustful eyes. As they cross the marble foyer to meet him, he cocks his head inquiringly at Lucas and a shadow is cast across his face.

Harry sticks out a hand and pats the bear on the arm like a supportive friend, but Radimov is not looking at him.

Lucas grits his teeth and stares at his hands clenched in front of him, not meeting Radimov's dark eyes.

As if remembering himself, Radimov permits Harry a short smile, and nods to Ros.

'Who is your friend, Harry?' he asks, his thick accent hiding behind a neat english voice.

Harry turns to Lucas. 'Sergei Radimov, Lucas North.'

They shake hands, tensely.

'I think perhaps I know you,' Radimov speaks carefully. 'No?'

'Maybe I just have one of those faces,' Lucas lies, giving as relaxed a smile as he can manage.

'Mmmmm.' If Radimov is not convinced, he says nothing more.

'We need to talk about the current threat level to this Embassy,' Harry puts a hand on Radimov's arm and draws him carefully to one side, leaving Lucas and Ros standing in the centre of the foyer.

Ros' eyes flicker to to Lucas' face for a split second, before she purses her lips and restrains her thoughts.

'Ros,' Lucas says curtly, knowing she's watching him.

'Feeling twitchy, Lucas?' Ros is steely.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Lucas' voice cuts, and his lip curls into a sneer.

'You jumped so hard when you saw Radimov, your gun nearly fell out of it's holster,' Ros comments coldly. 'What's going on?'

Lucas paces, like a caged panther.

'Sergei Radimov. I didn't know his name. But I know his face,' he shakes his head distractedly. 'He was one of my first interrogators at Leshenko. I'd know him anywhere. I suppose this position is reward for his good work.' Lucas blanches.

Ros glances over to where Harry and Radimov are still deep in conversation.

'You need to let Harry know about this Lucas,' she says, her voice a little softer than before. 'Isn't it a possibility-' she halts, and the pause that follows is so un-Ros like that Lucas glances at her. He can see her mind racing.

'Ros?'

'I think I know the target. I think I know who's got the dirty bomb.' Her face is set. 'Radimov was at Leshenko?'

Lucas nods.

'So was Yan. If I'm right, it's possible that like you, he had Radimov as an interrogator. That's justification enough in the eyes of a man like Mizirov. He wants revenge on you for turning him in to the FSB, and he's destroying your relationships. But surely Radimov - he's another target. The perfect one; this big embassy, all these ex-FSB big-shots walking around in their expensive Italian suits. If Mizirov can get his hands on the bomb, this'll be the target.'

Lucas stares blankly into space, taking it all in. 'But we don't know where it is. The weapon I mean.'

Ros' mouth purses. 'No, but that doesn't mean Yan doesn't.'

'Allingham's dead, Ros.'

'Maybe that's why. Or maybe he told someone else, like your friend Osmanovic said. Either way, it's possible Yan knows where it is.'

Lucas scratches the stubble on his chin worriedly. 'We need to check all weapons bases in the area. Contact the Americans and see if anything's been stolen. We can't afford to be diplomatic about this anymore, if there's something somebody's not telling us, we need to know now.'

Ros and Lucas eye each other warily for a second. 'Mizirov needs to be found.' Says Ros after a moment.

'And we need the whereabouts of the bomb.' Lucas pushes out a breath through his cheeks.

The snap of smart Churches shoes on the floor announces Harry's return, and he stops by his two agents looking grim.

'Right, we've got a bloody great mess to sort out.'

* * *

When Lucas gets back to his flat, it's nearing seven and he unlocks the door quietly.

He's scared, he realises. Scared of having to tell Rhian; because he's going to have to. He can't keep it from her any longer. He can't keep her in the dark.

The hallway empty, he drops his coat on the stand and kicks his shoes off, padding through into the kitchen.

Rhian sits, with her back to him, turning a pen over and over in her hands.

Over. And over.

Lucas watches her for a second, transfixed by the movement. Then he shakes himself mentally and walks closer.

'Rhian,' he tries softly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She starts and turns quickly, eyes wide.

'Sorry,' he says, smoothing a hand over her hair.

Rhian drops the pen and stands.

'Something's wrong,' she says, but it comes out no more than a whisper, as though she hasn't spoken in a very long time.

'Ree…' Lucas begins.

But Rhian grips his chin and forces him to look at her. 'There's so much you're not telling me. But I can see so much sadness in your eyes. Please, this is worse than me not knowing. Just tell me.'

Her eyes are soft and green, and Lucas feels his resolve crack as he looks down at her.

'Paul's dead Rhian. Ros and I found the body yesterday and I confirmed it was him. He's been dead about a week. It was Yan.'

The words fall like pebbles from his mouth and thud onto the floor of the apartment, black and irreversible.

Rhian's breath shatters against her lips.

Neither move.

Then Rhian's legs give way beneath her, dropping her onto the hard kitchen floor with a heavy thud. Lucas falls to his knees beside her, not even noticing the pain the impact sends up his spine, just intent on lifting her face to his. Her eyes are brimming with tears, but only one has fallen, clinging to her lashes and slipping down her cheek in one fluid movement.

He cradles her to his chest, murmuring nonsense. 'Shh, Ree. Shhhh,' he hushes, closing his eyes.

She lets out one cry; raw, animalistic and it cuts Lucas through. Then she's still again.

Eventually, Lucas lets her go and she presses one trembling hand to her mouth.

'Sorry, sorry,' she mutters, flushing slightly.

'Sorry?' Lucas asks, incredulous.

'I've been so selfish, wanting both of you,' she hiccups. 'I should have just left you alone. Poor Paul…' She drags her hair back from her face, where her eyes are red and tear streaked. 'I should have looked harder for him, maybe it was me that made Yan kill him.' She chokes. 'Maybe I didn't do enough.'

Lucas grips her arms hard. 'This is not your fault,' he says forcefully. 'Yan is a man maddened by grief. He would have killed Paul in the end anyway. There was nothing you could do.'

But Rhian shakes her head.

'I could have done so much more. I should have been there for him-'

Lucas presses long fingers against her lips.

'Stop.'

She bites her bottom lip.

'Paul wouldn't have wanted you to hate yourself for this. He knew as well as the next man the risks of this job.'

Rhian touches his cheek. 'You've survived.'

'I guess I'm just lucky.'

* * *

Lucas had gone out to take a call with Harry, his tone terse and his twisting fingers betraying his nerves. When he comes back, Rhian's gone.

_I need some space._

_Stay lucky, for me._

Lucas swears.

* * *

Rhian stops running when she reaches the end of the street and turns into the next one. She's got her hood up against the cold, and the only true sound she can hear is her own ragged breathing and the regular thud of her feet.

She needs time. Time to think. Time to give Lucas a chance to walk away, if that's what he wants.

She grips the sides of her hoodie tightly, arms wrapped round herself and prays he doesn't.

She's aware of footsteps. Fast, purposeful.

She turns.

'Lucas?'

There's no-one there.

Frowning at the dark, she turns back again.

The cloth stained with chloroform is thrust over her mouth and nose.

'Don't scream,' says Yan's voice in her ear.

* * *

**Sorry for the HUGE gap in updates. But I now have my exams out the way and the whole summer to write. Apologies for any glaring spelling errors and missing/erroneous words. I am my own Beta, and I'm not always reliable. **

**Thanks to all of you still following this story. I really appreciate it and if you want to drop a review - good, bad or ugly, it would be appreciated. I love to hear what people think.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12.

Stains.

_The cloth stained with chloroform is thrust over her mouth and nose._

'_Don't scream,' says Yan's voice in her ear._

_

* * *

_

'Rhian's gone walkabout.'

The team all turn their attention to Lucas, who is seated at the far end of the briefing room, legs loosely crossed and a grim expression on his face.

'Stupid girl,' Ros mutters.

Lucas ignores her and runs a tortured hand across his brow. 'I think she wanted to give me the chance to leave her if I wanted to. I reckon she didn't want to make herself my responsibility.' He shakes his head. 'She was giving me a choice.'

Ros sniffs derisively. 'Whereas now the only choice she's given you is whether you want her served in pieces on a platter by Yan, or shot in the back by the Russians who think she knows more than she really does.'

Lucas looks like he's about to snap like a steel string, but Harry intervenes quickly.

'What's the possibility Yan has her?'

Lucas shakes his head distractedly. 'He's still out there and he wants me to suffer, it's more likely he'll find her than the FSB. They have bigger fish to fry at the moment.'

'I'll have Malcolm red alert the local police, see if anyones seen Mizirov,' Harry scribbles this down as he speaks, and then turns to Lucas. 'Contact her family in Edinburgh, see if she's spoken to them. She may go home where she'll feel safest.'

Lucas nods, insides turning at the thought of Rhian with Yan; the man who had so thoughtlessly and brutally killed Paul. A glacial trickle of fear makes it's way down his back, but he straightens in his chair and forces himself to concentrate on the meeting.

There's been quiet research continuing, the American and British Army bases have been carefully contacted so as not to ruffle any international feathers and the possibility of Allingham's suicide being murder has been approached. But with Harry now aware of Yan and Lucas' connection to Sergei Radimov the new Russian co-ordinator at the embassy and the target as good as confirmed, Harry is eager to push the case forward and bring Yan in before anything gets out of hand. Rhian has complicated things.

'It seems Allingham was something of an idealist. Moneyed, wealthy background and a lot of time to waste. Saitov knew he needed some kind of benefactor. Someone with a suitable alias to feed information to and who could go relatively unsuspected if anything went wrong,' Ben shrugs. 'Perhaps he got bored, or even a little scared. But Allingham retreated from the brotherhood about three months ago. Saitov knew he couldn't kill him, because he'd be none the wiser about the bomb's position. It was stalemate.'

Jo pushes a stack of documents toward the centre of the table for Ros and Harry to inspect.

'It's the latest coroner's report for Allingham,' she leans across and selects a sheet. 'At first it looks like suicide, violent but easily self inflicted. However, they've found signs of internal damage, caused by prolonged assault. Allingham also had a problem with adrenaline, meaning that his hands were rarely steady. He was taking medication, but the wounds that caused his death are neat, long slices. If he had done them himself, they could never have been so exact.' She flicks to the last page. 'They're sure it's more than suicide. It must have been Yan, and seeing as he's disappeared from our radar all the signs are pointing towards him having got the information he wanted. He knows where the bomb is.'

Ros puts down the image of Allingham lying on a pathologist's table and steeples her fingers delicately. 'I've had a nice little getting to know you session with our American friends at their base in Headly Down, and they kindly neglected to tell us that a large amount of chemical explosives went missing from their secure centre just under a year ago. It's all raw explosives, and could have been stored anywhere. That's what Yan was after.'

'What about the radioactive material?' Lucas speaks up for the first time in minutes.

Ros shrugs. 'Could have been taken from the American's as well. They're very touchy about the whole situation. The likelihood is there's still things they're not telling us.'

'So we're up against an IED?' Malcolm sits forward, pen poised. 'A dirty IED, a mix of conventional explosives and radioactive material that Yan will have constructed?'

When Ros nods, he shakes his head. 'It could be anything; remote detonated, trigger switch. We need more intel, I can't just send a bomb squad in without knowing if there'll be a fallout zone or not.'

Ros' lips purse. 'I'll see what I can do.'

'Ok then,' Harry stands. 'In the meantime, Lucas if Yan contacts you I need to know immediately and if you can talk to Osmanovic again that might give us an idea of how Yan might operate.'

Lucas murmurs his consent and stays in his seat as the others file out, letting his head drop into his hands as soon as the door swings shut.

* * *

Lucas returns home later that day to an empty flat. Part of him had still prayed as he mounted the steps to his floor and turned the key in the lock, that Rhian would be sitting inside when he opened the door.

A small square slip of paper waits for him on the kitchen table.

His eyes are drawn to it, even as he throws off his coat and kicks his shoes into a corner.

Lucas' chest constricts.

The floor beneath his feet no longer stable he stumbles across and grips the back of a chair, staring with wide blue eyes at the note. Waiting for the worst, waiting for his heart to snap.

_Come and get me._

_You know where._

It's almost a relief.

No red stained writing, no _I told you so. _Just instructions written in neat blue ink.

Lucas isn't sure what he had been expecting, Rhian's name written in her own blood, something that screamed at him that she was dead. That he had lost her.

He collapses, shaking into the chair and draws the note towards him.

It's obvious Yan is baiting him. Lucas knows exactly where he will be and he knows in his heart of hearts he will not be able to stop himself from going.

He drags his phone out of his pocket and quickly calls the grid.

'Lucas?'

'I've been contacted.'

He hears the handset being replaced and his own voice amplified as he's put on speakerphone.

'How?'

'A note,' Lucas explains, anger barely concealed. 'On my kitchen table when I got in. I want to know how the hell he got in here!'

There's a moment of silence down the other end. Then Malcolm's voice.

'Lucas there's no sign of him on the CCTV cameras to your flat, can you check that he didn't break in from the back?'

Lucas pushes himself from the chair, fingers still clamping the phone to his ear and skirts quickly round his flat, pushing windows and running his free hand along the frames and latches.

'Nothing,' he announces, once he's checked the last room.

'Ok.' It's Harry, steadying the mood and steering the conversation clear of Lucas' bubbling fury. 'What does it say Lucas?'

Lucas scrubs his jaw. 'Come and get me, you know where.'

'Tempting,' Ros comments drily, but Harry is in no mood for Ros' parched humour.

'He means the embassy.'

'Yes,' Lucas sits down on the edge of the bed. 'I'm going,' he says quickly, as though if he doesn't tell them they'll somehow stop him from leaving. 'If he wants me to find him he'll have Rhian.'

'Lucas I don't think this is wise…'

He is about to answer curtly, when Malcolm speaks again. 'I've found Mizirov on the city council's CCTV system, a street just to the north of the Embassy.' There's a pause. 'Lucas you were right, he's got Rhian.'

Lucas stands.

'He's in a white volkswagen van, vehicle registration X425 GH6,' Malcolm turns again to speak to the phone, his voice more distinct. 'He's got the bomb Lucas, he's got Rhian and he's got the bomb.'

* * *

Lucas arrives at the Russian Embassy on foot and jogs up the main steps alone, his mind racing. It's been half an hour since Yan arrived with Rhian and the bomb, and yet there's no sign of any disturbance when he enters the lobby. In fact, there's no one there at all.

Hackles rising Lucas scans the marble foyer area quickly, his pale complexion made even paler by the high windows and the white marble. It takes a matter of seconds for him to realise that the lobby, all the anti-rooms leading off from it and the conference room beyond are deserted.

His shoes rap smartly on the stairs as he takes them two at a time, grateful for the solid weight of his revolver at his hip, and he reaches the first floor landing quickly.

Lucas stops for a second, taking his bearings and aware now that he can hear the low roar of engines outside as the team arrive a few minutes after him, as planned.

_Alpha One any sign of disturbance?_

'Nothing, there's no-one around,' Lucas skirts the edge of the landing and slips into a new corridor. 'I'm going to do a sweep of the first floor.'

_Copy that Alpha One_

Closing his eyes momentarily, Lucas slows his breathing and begins to move stealthily towards the long windows at the far end of the corridor. Open doors lead off to left and right, and he glances in to each quickly.

_Any progress?_

Lucas is just about to open his mouth, when he glimpses movement. Just to his right, through an open door.

But he's too late.

Distracted by the cold sunlight flooding through the windows inside the room and illuminating the figure in the centre, he's not ready for the shock of cold steel as it's pressed against the back of his head.

'So you came.'

Yan's voice does not hide the contented tone of a man who knows he has won. It's mellow, gentle almost and as Lucas feels the Yan's fingers slip the gun from his slack grasp there's a strange softness in his touch.

_Alpha One?_

'Get rid of it,' Yan instructs, as Lucas is turned toward him. 'Slowly.'

Lucas reaches grudgingly up, removes the earpiece from his ear and drops it on the ground. Yan's boot crushes it in one swift motion.

'Now walk.'

Rhian is there just as Malcolm had promised, Lucas can see her hair drawn in a long plait down her back and her shoulders hunched.

'Rhian!' He can't help himself, he has to see her face.

'Be quiet,' Yan demands, pushing the nozzle of the gun harder against Lucas' head.

But she's heard him now and strains to turn round against the bonds that hold her to the chair. Her eyes meet his for a fleeting second and Lucas thinks he sees relief flare, before Yan forces him round and shoves into the chair directly behind Rhian.

Lucas studies the man's face intently. He's gaunter than Lucas remembers, but the same gentleness is there about the eyes, the kindness Lucas saw when he posed as a friend of Yan's and saw him with his children. Yan would laugh and drag the boys up onto his knees as he passed crucial information on to a british spy. But Lucas knows he's lost that man for ever. He can see the pain engraved on Yan's forehead and cheeks, the tortured way his fingers quiver ever so slightly as he lashes Lucas' legs to the chair and his hands behind him.

'Yan…' he starts.

The eyes that dart up to trap his are as hard as stone and fathomless, unreadable.

Lucas knows there's no hope.

His work finished, Yan straightens and steps back.

'I'm leaving now,' he says, quietly. 'I won't come back.'

'Yan!' Lucas shouts, as the smaller man turns towards the door. 'Yan! None of this was ever meant to happen! I never betrayed you to them, I swear on my life I never gave you up!'

A heartbeat pause and Yan stops, hands clenched by his side. 'But that doesn't matter any more, does it Lucas? Because they're all dead and soon we will be too.'

'Yan you don't want this! You're a good man, you don't want this!'

'How do you know what I want?' Yan screams, turning and facing Lucas with his hand still on the door. 'I want my revenge and I want my family! But everything was taken from me. Everything!' His voice is deafening now in the huge room. 'I wanted you to suffer just as I have!'

Lucas is silent for a second. 'I know, Yan. I know.'

The door slams.

'Luc…' Rhian's voice is hoarse and quiet.

He doesn't answer immediately but leans his head back so that it rests against hers, her breath calm in his ears.

'Ree I'm so sorry,' he manages finally, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.

But Rhian will have none of it. 'Sorry? What are you sorry for? For God's sake Lucas we're not dead yet!' So determined is her tone of voice, Lucas manages a shaky laugh.

'Come on, Luc, how do we get out of here?'

Lucas opens his eyes again, and looks around them.

They're in the centre of a long, tall, elegant room. There's a table down the far end and a large fireplace with a portrait over it. But nothing, nothing that could help them get out.

'My right pocket,' he says suddenly. 'Can you reach it?'

He feels Rhian's fingers at his hip as she twists her hands round in their bonds.

'Give me a minute,' she says tensely.

Her searching fingers brush closer to his crotch and Lucas tenses momentarily. Rhian giggles. 'Sensitive area Lucas?'

'You're taking advantage of me,' he growls, and pushes his hips to the right.

Finally she finds his pocket, and drags out the contents.

'Keys?' she asks incredulously. 'Don't tell me you want to saw through the ropes using a front door key?'

Lucas rolls his eyes. 'There's a pen knife attached.'

Rhian reaches for it carefully. 'Yan didn't notice that? Not really thought this through has he.'

'He's so close to what he thinks will be his redemption that he's making mistakes. Don't complain, Ree.'

She's quiet as she starts to hack at the thin ropes with the knife twisted awkwardly in her hand.

'Any chance you could saw any faster?' asks Lucas after a few minutes.

Rhian growls in frustration and doesn't reply.

Finally, there's a small gasp of relief as the bonds on her hands tear open and she reaches down to remove the ropes from her ankles. Within seconds, she's in front of Lucas, knife going to work swiftly.

He watches her face, looking for any signs of bruising, injury, anything.

'Are you hurt?' he asks, standing and taking her face in his hands once she's freed him.

'No.' She shakes her head and puts a hand up to her mouth.

'Ree?'

She buries her face in his shirt and hugs him tightly, her voice muffled against his chest.

'Pardon?' Lucas asks gently, holding her close and stroking her head.

'I didn't want to lose you.'

Lucas sighs gently. 'You won't Ree, I promise. But I need you to go and find the people who work in the embassy and get everyone out. He'll have them in a big meeting room somewhere. Take them out the front, I've got my team waiting. Can you do that for me?'

Rhian lets go and nods, jaw jutting determinedly. 'Where will you be?'

Lucas looks at her. 'I need to find Yan and the bomb.'

* * *

Harry is pacing. Ros watches him through lidded eyes as he walks from one end of the row of cars to the other.

'Harry, I can go in now,' Ben begins, but Harry cuts him off.

'No, I will not risk any more of my operatives. We wait, until we receive word from Lucas.'

'But he's off coms!'

Harry ignores Ben, and turns to Ros. 'Any update on CO19 or the bomb squad?'

'The home secretary's still stalling,' Ros leans easily against the door of the Lexus four wheel drive. 'He's not happy about sending a british special unit into the Russian embassy until we've confirmed the threat level. The Russian's haven't even sent out an alarm.'

Harry looks up at the tall face of the building in front and shakes his head. 'Lucas won't leave till he's found Rhian and the bomb.'

There's a stillness and then a rush of voices and footsteps as the staff of the embassy come pouring out the doors and down the steps in a wave. Rhian is just behind them, her eyes searching for the small group crowded round the cars.

Harry turns to Ben and Jo. 'Sort these people transport, we need to get them out of the area.'

Rhian approaches Harry and Ros warily. 'Lucas told me to get everyone out,' she tells them.

'Where is Lucas?'

'He went to find Yan and the bomb.'

Sergei Radimov is suddenly there, bristling and shaking like a large tree in distress, the anger obvious in his flat face.

Rhian is left to Ros.

'How long do you think he has?' Rhian asks after a few minutes.

Ros is as icy as ever. 'Till the building blows.'

Rhian pales, and looks back at the embassy.

'I'm going back for him,' Rhian says firmly, starting across the street.

Ros grips her arm. 'None of the team are to go back in, Harry's orders.'

Rhian looks at her coldly. 'I'm not part of your _team _andI'm not leaving him to Yan.' And she twists out of Ros' grip and sprints up the steps into the embassy.

* * *

Rhian heads down, not knowing quite why but lead instead by an instinct that Yan would bury himself deep down and take the bomb with him.

She descends a flight of stairs and turns left at the bottom. Dead end.

She retraces her steps and takes right, finding another long corridor with a set of steep steps visible. She's about to run towards them when someone appears at the end of the corridor, coming from a door leading off to the right.

He skids to a halt and as he glances down towards her, his eyes widen.

'Lucas!' she calls, heart slowing gratefully at the realisation she's found him.

But no sooner has Rhian taken a first step towards him, than another man slams into Lucas from the side, driving him back against the wall.

Rhian starts to run before she knows what she's doing.

Lucas struggles, wrong footed by the sudden assault and cries out as his head is slammed forcefully against the wall. Rhian is meters away when she sees the sudden flash of steel in Yan's hand.

Her heart explodes in her mouth, leaving her unable to draw in breath.

Lucas lets out a short gasp, as though all the air has been forced out of him and crumples in Yan's grip. Rhian watches, frozen, as Yan shoves Lucas away from him and forces him backwards down the stairs.

She hears the crack as Lucas hits the bottom.

She feels like screaming.

Bracing herself for the inevitable when Yan turns on her, Rhian drags in a deep breath. But Yan has spun away and is already running along the corridor to the right, his boots echoing about the walls.

Rhian stumbles down the stairs, eyes fixed on Lucas as he lies prone at the bottom of the flight. She sinks to her knees beside him and attempts to survey the damage.

'Lucas?' she tries, keeping her voice as steady as possible. 'Lucas can you hear me?'

She cups his cheek and leans her head down to his mouth and nose.

Warm breath brushes against her ear, faint and quiet. She lets out a sigh of relief, he's still breathing.

Forcing herself to remain calm, Rhian kisses him swiftly on the lips and turns her gaze to his side. Yan's knife must have severed an artery as blood is flowing freely from the wound, staining his shirt and leaking onto the concrete floor. A dark red lake. A sob threatens to rise in her throat.

_Apply pressure. _Rhian thinks firmly and drags off her hoodie, pressing it to his side and holding it there with shaking hands.

_I can't leave him. I need to get him out of here, the whole buildings going to blow. But I need help!_

Rhian can't stop a few frustrated tears forming in her eyes as she glances at Lucas' pale face, a trickle of red spilling from his hairline.

How could he have been so stupid not to see Yan? How could she have been so stupid to distract him? Silently cursing herself, Rhian moves round and settles herself behind him, resting his head on her lap and keeping her hand pressed to his side.

She only notices it when the first urgent bleep is heard in the stillness.

To her left, a lone red light flickers.

The bomb.

For the second time in five minutes Rhian's heart stops working.

'Shit, Lucas,' she whispers. 'What should I do? What should I do!'

But he says nothing.

Fumbling in his pockets again, Rhian finds his mobile quickly and selects Harry Pearce's number.

'Hello Lucas?'

Rhian's breath shatters gratefully from her lips. 'No, Rhian.'

'Where's Lucas?'

'He's here, but he's been injured and he's unconscious. I can't move him, he's bleeding too heavily and I can't lift him alone, and the bombs down here.'

There's quiet male voices down the end of the line, then another man speaks.

'Rhian, my name's Malcolm, can you show me the bomb?'

Removing Lucas' head carefully from her lap, Rhian edges closer to the device in the shadows of the room and starts the video call.

'Are there any wires leading out the back?'

Rhian looks, heart thumping.

'No.'

'Good, thats good.'

'What now?' Rhian tries to stop her voice from betraying her fear.

'I need you to tell me if there's a microchip on the top, leading to a small black box.'

Rhian angles the phone and looks.

'Yes, there is.'

'Ok, Rhian, I need you to remove the chip without touching any of the other components. Can you do that for me?'

'Yes,' she says hoarsely.

Placing the phone down, she pries the chip away from the main body of the bomb with her fingernails, mouth set in concentration.

'I've done it,' she says, once she's picked up the phone again.

Malcolm's voice is tense. 'You'll have triggered a fail safe, but you've removed any chance of remote detonation. Rhian you have about 30 seconds to open the box on the top and break the two red wires leading to the main component.'

The bomb is beeping frantically now, and Rhian feels her muscles flood with adrenaline.

_Concentrate_. She tells herself. Hands shaking, she scrambles back to Lucas and retrieves the penknife again.

It takes her 5 seconds to open the box and another 5 to find the two red wires. Check the component. Yes.

Now cut the wires.

She's counting in her head.

10

Come on.

The knife sees impossibly blunt now.

6

Come on!

One cut.

5

Crying in frustration, Rhian holds the wire between her fingers and pulls the blade upwards.

4…

The bleeping stops.

The red light disappears.

For a second there is nothing but silence.

Rhian finds she cannot stop herself from crying. Sobs rack her and she crawls across to where Lucas still lies, totally oblivious of how close he has just come to death.

Shaking, she presses herself against him and holds him tightly. Her tears soak his shirt. His blood soaks hers.

'I love you Lucas North,' she whispers to him softly, as footsteps can be heard above them. 'I love you.'


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13.

The Marked Man

It happens in a rush of red and neon lights, the wail of sirens and for Rhian, the relief of total darkness. There are murmurs of voices, and the rhythmic passing of traffic. The ticking of a clock, and the echo of gunshots creep close to her ears. The sharp, pained sound as Lucas' breath leaves him is replayed in her ears and the muttering of hospital monitors slides past her senses as she fights to stay unconscious, desperate not to have to face what has happened to them both.

An hour passes, perhaps more. She's alone. Her heart aches and fear has left her bruised and shivering.

Despite of it all, she doesn't feel drowsy. Now that sleep has fled from the little hospital room like a crying child Rhian feels too awake to lie still and pray that someone finds her.

She wonders how long it took the medics to find them.

How long long it takes a person to bleed to death.

She lies there for a while, gazing up at the white ceiling and pressed between two starched sheets, feeling that if she moves she'll shatter and that will be the end of it.

It's the voices that rouse her.

She can hear Ros; her tone clipped and crisp and a man, whose voice is quiet and tight with worry.

Rhian slips from the bed, her bare feet curling as the cold vinyl freezes her feet. She wonders what they've done with her shoes.

The two agents turn and look at her when she pushes the door open, their eyes half pitying, half reproachful. She doesn't blame them. She's done this, dragged their colleague into this mess and now they have to be civil and calm with her.

For a moment, Rhian thinks Ros is going to turn back round and ignore her, but her lips crease a little. 'Shouldn't you be resting?'

Rhian lets out a short, strained breath. 'I'm not hurt.'

'The doctors said you're in shock.'

'I'm fine.'

Ros raises her eyebrows imperceptibly at the tinge of anger that stains Rhian's voice. This woman has more to her than Ros had thought. She's smarter, better adapted and that competitive, unforgiving side Ros can see visible forces her into a grudging respect. Not so much the manipulated, naive girl Ros had hoped to write her off as.

'I want to speak to Harry,' Rhian says, after it's clear that Ros isn't going to argue about her state of health.

Ros glances at Ben, who shrugs and leans back against the wall. 'Now?' she questions curtly.

Rhian nods, stubbornly. 'As soon as you can. Don't bullshit me, I know when people are sidelining me and right now I'm a little too tired for arguing.'

Ros sends Ben a look.

'Give me a minute,' she says, looking at Rhian steadily. 'I'll be back for you.'

* * *

Ros had returned with Rhian's shoes, a jacket and a mobile phone. She'd let her pull on the shoes and jacket, before handing her the phone and telling her not to let it go.

Rhian has it clenched between her thumb and forefinger, stuffed firmly in her pocket as Ros leads her through the glass revolving doors and onto the grid.

Harry is there when they arrive, a guiding hand going out to Rhian and a short word to Ros before he turns them towards his office.

Inside, Rhian sinks into the chair Harry indicates and lets out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. Harry watches her guardedly before placing himself firmly behind the desk and pushing a piece of paper towards her.

Rhian doesn't react at first.

Her eyes are glazed, and Harry wonders for a second if she's sleeping.

'He's fine you know,' Harry speaks quietly. 'They've said he'll pull through.'

Rhian nods once, face grey.

Harry had wanted to pull the paper sadness from her eyes, crumple it into a ball and throw it away. But it's still there, printed across her cheeks.

'What is this?' Rhian suddenly demands, her face a set mask.

Harry doesn't blink. 'This is just procedure, Miss McKenzie.'

'Rhian.'

'Rhian,' Harry says quietly, leaning against his desk. 'Listen. These past few days have been traumatic…'

'Traumatic!'

'Yes, and I understand your concern for Lucas and this team. But this will not help.'

Rhian's face hardens even further if that were possible. 'I've lost one man in my life already this month to this service, and I nearly lost another tonight, and perhaps even my own life, and you're telling me that this setup becoming official isn't going to work?'

'It's a very long initiation process; forms, and countless paperwork, physical fitness tests, and psychological ones too.'

'Harry,' Rhian begins quietly. 'You're a clever man. You know what people are driven to when they're desperate. I'm desperate to keep Lucas, and I know that means being part of his work. Because his work has become his life. I'll never fully understand him or be able to, without being in this team. I think I've proven myself capable of being part of five and I was already vetted when Paul and I got together. You and I both know it'll take a matter of hours for you to sort the paper work.'

Harry is silent.

'Please, Harry please.'

He only has to match her gaze to know he will, because he can see Lucas there; reproachful and subdued. The blue has bled through the green in her eyes, and Harry silently curses himself before he answers.

'Ok.'

Rhian stares.

'Ok?'

Harry forces himself to nod.

'But only on the condition you persuade Lucas to take a couple of weeks off. Be easy on him, and perhaps don't mention this little interview right away. He has a nasty habit of jumping down my throat when I make a rash decision.' Harry gives a rueful smile and for a second, Rhian's resolve falters.

'Harry, I-'

'You're doing this for him. That's fine. You're capable, any fool could see that. It's the ones who are in it for themselves that I turn away. The arrogant ones. The death or glory candidates. I think you're on safe ground Rhian, don't worry.'

Rhian permits herself a small smile.

'Can I get back to the hospital?' She's sitting with her palms to her temples, watching Harry tiredly.

'Of course, I'll get you a car.'

'I can take the tube.'

'No,' Harry is firm. 'I'll get you a driver, it's no trouble. We need to keep you safe.'

Rhian frowns, something tugging at the back of mind.

Harry makes a quick phone call, his back to Rhian. When he turns back, the frown is gone.

'Harry, where's Yan?'

Harry's face is suddenly tense. 'Dead. Sasha Osmanovic was there and shot him, we've brought them both in. One to the mortuary the other to the interrogation rooms.'

Dead.

_Dear God_, Rhian thinks._ Thank you for killing him before I had to._

_

* * *

_

She watches him sleeping. His face youthful, the furrows on his brow and the tightness round his eyes and mouth gone. His fingers are loose in her grasp, the grazes on his knuckles livid against his skin.

Rhian drifts, the shadow of the man stationed outside the door cast across the wall a quiet companion.

When she jolts awake, his eyes meet hers.

'I heard you.'

His voice is little more than a scratching in his throat, ragged and sore.

Rhian curls her hand round his, like a shell and leans closer.

'What?' she whispers, biting in her bottom lip.

His eyes flicker to their shelled hands, and his fingers twitch. 'You said you loved me, in the basement, before I blacked out. I heard you.'

Rhian's eyes fill. 'I did,' her voice is stronger.

Lucas' eyes flicker. 'Good,' his mouth is parched, and his lips whisper against each other. 'Because I love you too.'

There, he thinks softly before he stumbles back into sleep, I've done it.

Love is such an easy thing to say, but it's the hardest thing of all to realise.

* * *

**Thank you so much to LoveSaveTheEmpty, X-Mad-Giraffe-Attack-X, Moneypenny, goldeneyes20601 and LibiLoves, all of whom have reviewed recently! **

**I'm a bit disappointed there so few of you who have read and reviewed. I know I've been really slow updating, but I am real review addict and it really does encourage me to write more! **

**Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than before - but if enough of you review, who knows how long the next one could be? Thanks,**

**Vive.**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14.

Forgetting

Lucas is alone for the next week and a half. Unless you count the hours of physio and the days he spends watching doctors and nurses and cleaners shuffle in and out of his room, only glancing and smiling awkwardly at the pale, thin man in the bed just too small for his long frame. No-one visits. No-one speaks to him. He is sure he is going slowly mad.

He sinks into himself. Trying desperately to remember what has happened to him, why he's here; when in reality he can recall nothing. Nothing at all, except Rhian's single visit and his murmured confession. It worries him, this empty space in his head.

The nurses try to take his mind off it; bringing in Newspapers, giving him a radio that sits unused on the table, but why would he want to know what was happening in the rest of the world when he can do nothing about it? He's restless and lonely, occasionally trying to prise himself from between the starched white sheets so that he can walk, stretch his legs. But his body betrays him every time. His muscles tremble and his shoulder; dislocated from his fall so the doctors tell him, aches and sears painfully. His eyes play tricks and his knees knock and he's reduced to taking a stumbling step before collapsing back onto the bed, head in hands.

He feels an anger chewing at his insides, tearing to get out and itching at the healing wound below his ribs.

When he's managed a walk from his room to the main entrance without a fall or a doctor stopping him, he allows himself a small thrill of pride and drags himself back to his bed, promising he'll sign himself out tomorrow.

* * *

Harry stares at the man on the screen, sat with his hands clasped on top of the interrogation table and his wide mouth a set line. The image flickers, Harry rubs his face and looks away.

So far, Sasha Osmanovic has said only one thing. That he killed Yan Mizirov. Killed him and does not regret it.

He is half tempted to bring Ros down but, after a particularly stinging argument with her in which he detailed in no uncertain terms his interrogation skills, asking her to help would feel suspiciously like defeat.

But after all, the situation was not desperate. They had the bomb; safely disarmed. The Americans were cooperating nicely, allowing Malcolm to work on their CCTV footage and checking the rest of their secure bases for any missing materials. Yan was dead, and Lucas tucked carefully away in hospital so far not causing any trouble. And Rhian. Well Rhian was another matter entirely.

Harry groans and loosens his tie a little further, before straightening and turning to push open the door once more.

Osmanovic looks up, face blank.

Harry matches his gaze firmly, but inside he wishes that tonight won't be as long as he suspects it will be.

* * *

Lucas had felt a pang of guilt as he pick-pocketed the man who'd been waiting on the pavement as he hailed the taxi, but now as he pulls some notes from Dimitri Levendis' wallet and climbs out onto the street he is quietly grateful.

'That'll be fifteen quid mate.'

'Thank you-' says Lucas absently as he hands over the money and stares up at the streamlined apartment block.

The taxi draws away.

The code troubles him. There's a slow second as he stands by the tiny key pad next to the doors and forces his fingers to move. Six digits, he thinks angrily. Come on man, it can't be that hard.

This sudden, distinct memory loss troubles him even as he's unlocking his apartment door and he forces himself to visualize the pattern his fingers make.

Six, three, five, nine, seven, one.

Six, three, five, nine, seven, one.

Six, five, three-

'Shit.'

He tells himself it's tiredness and pours a glass of water, downing it in one and pacing restlessly from the kitchen to the living room and back again.

Lucas finds himself stalling. Now he's home he just wants to be on the grid. But thats out of the question.

What do I want now? He thinks, rapping his fingers against the worktop. Well that was easy; talk to Rhian. To talk to someone other than nurses, doctors, taxi drivers and himself for the first time in a fortnight.

His fingers close round his phone, but as he picks up the handset and reaches down to key in the numbers he finds himself at a loss again.

'Christ,' he moans, rubbing his forehead viciously.

Rhian's mobile. It _cannot_ be this hard.

Something must have happened, he realises. My head, I hit my head. On the way down.

Down what? A nasty little voice needles.

Stairs, a building, God I don't know.

But you should know, shouldn't you? If you were alright. But you're not alright are you Lucas.

It's just memory loss; perfectly normal. I've been beaten about a bit, it's bound to just be from that.

Bereft of Rhian's phone number and with an unsettling unease creeping over him, Lucas fishes out a pad of paper and a pen and sets about reassuring himself.

He starts small.

Three numbers.

Look, visualise, recite.

His hands tremble.

He'd always been able to memorise things, just like that. Since about the age of ten when he realised he could pass tests by reading the material the night before, he had monopolized it. It had become part of his work, his life. The thought that perhaps he has lost it, scares him.

* * *

A couple of miles north in the foyer of a London mortuary, Rhian's phone is being switched off.

'I don't know if I should let you in, Miss.'

Rhian rolls her eyes and looks back up at the nervous, thin young man standing behind the desk. He's like a pot plant thats not seen enough sun and Rhian knows she can win this easily.

'Police business waits for no man, Mr Halson,' she exclaims exasperatedly. 'Now if you'd please just cooperate and let me in to see number 376 I have a few items to pick up for the enquiry.'

Halson stalls.

'Is it because I'm a female police officer?' Rhian's voice is suddenly dry.

Halson flushes and stutters.

'Good,' says Rhian, knowing she's aced him. 'Come on then Mr Halson, lead on.'

He nods. 'Right this way.'

The tray is pulled out, and Halson hovers awkwardly.

'You can leave,' Rhian glances at him. 'I can find my way back from here and I'll check out when I'm done.'

Once the doors have swung shut, Rhian looks down at the covered body on the stainless steel.

She's not shaking when she unzips the bag to see his face.

Death is white.

Yan's face has been claimed by a coldness that has stolen all the colour from his cheeks.

Rhian stares.

The man who killed Paul. The man who nearly killed Lucas.

She should hate him more, but as she looks down at his pallid death mask she is filled with pity. A film of tears obscures her vision, and she brushes them angrily away. Murderer. She thinks furiously, but it does not ring true.

Why can't I hate him?

Face straightening a little, Rhian fills her head with hateful thoughts and spits in Yan's chill, dead face.

By the time Halson has made himself a mug of peppermint tea and brought it back to his desk Rhian is there to give him a quick smile and wave a clear plastic bag full of odds and ends at him, before leaving swiftly.

* * *

Lucas has just managed three, six-figure strings perfectly when he hears a key turn in the lock.

He sits, frozen.

There's a dull thud, two softer scuffles and then the sound of light footfalls.

He doesn't turn, just strains to hear more.

'Lucas!'

She sounds surprised, her voice betraying her worry.

Lucas lets himself relax, feels her arms slip round him and hug him hard.

There's pain in his ribs, but it's warm not agonising. He loosens her grip himself and she presses her forehead against the gap between his shoulder blades. 'Sorry.'

He clasps her hand and shakes his head. 'I've not spoken to a soul for the past week and a half,' he glances up at her. 'It's been torture.'

And she believes him.

They stop for a moment him sitting, her standing, till Rhian's eye catches the sheets of paper covered in numbers on the work surface.

'What's this?' She spreads the papers apart, frowning.

Lucas ignores her. 'Tea?' he asks, standing and taking her with him to the sink.

Rhian lets the matter drop and nods. 'Sure.' She fiddles with the buttons on his shirt and wonders how he got out of the hospital with no money, no phone and no permission from Harry.

'Did you walk?' she asks, as the kettle boils in the background.

'Taxi.'

'How did you pay?'

'Cash, Rhian, how else?'

She half laughs. 'Okay, okay, be evasive.'

'Who says I'm being evasive?'

But Rhian is looking at him strangely.

'What?'

She touches his arm. 'Are you alright, Luc?'

He turns, holding the two steaming mugs. 'Yep.'

His face looks pinched and pale, so Rhian leans up and kisses him. 'When are you going to open up and let me in?'

'I'm just tired and sick of being ignored,' he warms his hands round the mug. It's not much of an answer and he knows it. He changes tack. 'And I can't remember anything.'

'What?'

'I can't remember a thing from before the hospital,' his eyes flick down, lashes long and dark.

'Well you had concussion, Luc,' Rhian begins cautiously. 'From the fall.'

'Yan?'

She nods.

'He's in interrogation? He's been caught?'

'No.'

Lucas' eyebrows raise.

'Yan's dead, Osmanovic killed him.'

There's a tense silent and then Lucas seems to deflate.

'Thank God.'

* * *

At half six the next morning Rhian is grateful he's still asleep. She's been awake half the night, unused to his heavy warmth after two weeks without him. But it's not just his absence that's made her uneasy; she needs to tell him about Harry's decision before they go back to the grid.

Should she just tell him straight out? Or leave it for a couple of days…

Lucas' coat is on the chair opposite and curious, Rhian feels in the pockets for a wallet. It's pale brown and slim, one credit card and the smell of sweet leather clings to it. Twenty pounds and a photograph of a naval ship. The name on the credit card is Dimitri Levendis and Rhian's nose wrinkles as she tries to work out if that's Russian or Greek.

Having convinced herself that it doesn't matter anyway and that Lucas probably steals countless wallets on operations, she sits down on the sofa and turns on her phone.

There's a voice mail from her friend and a message from O2 that she deletes immediately. Then a text message from an unknown number.

**Rhian**** - ****Osmanovic****'****s ****started ****to ****talk****. ****He ****knew ****where ****the ****bomb ****was****, ****Allingham ****had ****given ****him ****the ****location****. ****Don****'****t ****tell ****Lucas**** - ****we****'****ll ****need ****you ****back ****by ****next ****Wednesday****. ****Harry****.**

Rhian pushes her hair back from her forehead. What was that supposed to mean? So Sasha Osmanovic knew where the bomb was, did that mean he could have spoken up before she'd be taken by Peitr? Did that mean all of this had been for nothing. If he'd talked, surely they could have cleared this up sooner. She scanned the text again. Don't tell Lucas because they'd be back to work next week and told anyway? Or don't tell Lucas because it'll send him into some sort of mental downward spiral meaning he can't go back to work next week? Rhian shakes her head. She was pretty sure he wasn't that unstable.

'Ree?'

Oh God.

'Who's the message from?'

* * *

**Apologies again for the stupidly long gap in updates. I seem to be in something of a creative desert. Sorry this chapter was a bit of a filler, but an important one nonetheless - the action will be picking up again in a couple of chapters and I'll try to make the breaks between them less gigantic!**

**Thank you to all my lovely reviewers and all those of you who've favourited or added this story to your alerts - any feedback or crit I get is so welcome! Hope you all had lovely Christmases and Happy New Year!**

**Vive.**


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